


Bound to Happen.

by Ashida



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:42:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pictures says a thousand words. A thousand words better left unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Setsuna24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setsuna24/gifts).



 

* * *

 

Kirishima stared at the picture before him, it was a nice picture, captured in a very rare moment of mutual affection. The photographer really was quite skilled, for the photo screamed thousands of unspoken words would never be uttered out loud. That could never be uttered out loud.

It was a rare snippet of time, more rare and precious then any gem or fortune, a snippet of time that people longed in their heart to experience for themselves.

This photo depicted two halves of one whole, joined together to become complete in each others embrace. It revealed magnetism, two forces inexplicably attracted to each other, two hydrogen atoms that if taken apart would cause chaos on a nuclear scale. Simple chemistry. That is what it was.

It revealed warmth, warmth like the morning sun bathing cold cheeks on a frosty morning, warmth that seeped into you, infected you to quickly become an addiction, a raging furnace of want and need. A thirst that only the other half could quench.

Raw human emotions, rendered down to the purest of forms, uncorrupt and unaffected by worldly influences like nothing else existed, a photographer longed to capture moments such as the one Kirishima was looking at.

 

It really was a nice picture, the secretary had never witnessed such a tender moment between his boss and Akihito before.

The way Asami looked down at Akihito’s face, his golden eyes soft and smoldering while one of his hands cupped the smaller mans chin, there was no mistaking how his boss truly felt, this photo said it all, said it all and more.

Even from the photo, the connection as the two locked gazes was palpable, Akihito looked up at the crime lord with adoration, the smaller body melding against the thick chest of suited his lover with arms wrapped tightly around the others waist, like he was a life line.

It was plain to see, that in this moment of time they existed only for one another, gravity personified, one of the rare moments that both men let down their guard, Akihito, tired at putting up his prickly front, and his boss, weary of keeping it all locked in.

 

Any other time, Kirishima would have smiled at such a picture, his boss deserved happiness, and if the feisty brat could give it to him, then so be it. He had made their lives all the more interesting with his presence.

Kirishima shook the thoughts out of his head, and a cold sweat appeared on his brow as he realized the severity of the situation.

Kirishima feared for his life as he made his way to the penthouse, to share the photo with his boss and long time friend. His heart was filled with dread, the photo didn’t present problems for Asami exactly, but for Akihito, his life would be over.

How the unknown photographer had snapped such a photo he had no idea, and how the photo had made it’s way to the front page of Japans biggest newspaper, he had no idea. This would be the unlikely pair’s biggest test yet.

Kirishima should have seen it coming, he knew it was bound to happen, sooner or later.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was worse then Kirishima thought as he stood in Asami’s office.

Much, much worse.

He expected irritation, or even anger, he was prepared for the inevitable question of how this could have gotten past them to get published.

The issue of the press was like an incessant mosquito, you were aware of it’s constant buzzing in the background, it wasn’t so bad if it stayed away, but the closer it buzzed, the louder the whine of its little wings would get, until it could no longer be ignored.

Kirishima had been able to swat all the annoying insects away up until this point, but it seemed this one time, one had gotten through and found the most juicy and delicate of places to sink its teeth into. The most vulnerable place, easy to scar and slow to heal, leaving an angry red welt that burnt and itched. A constant reminder that you had let your guard down.

He expected his boss to light his Dunhill like he always does, issue an order, and continue on as usual like it wasn’t even a bump in the road. Orders from Asami were infallible, as sure as the sun would rise in the east and set in the west.

No, he wasn’t expecting any of that, that’s what he was hoping for.

He was hoping for something, _anything._

Anything other then stone faced silence as his boss looked down at the front page of the paper.

Instead, he was faced with the impenetrable fortress of Asami’s façade. The fortress that could never fall, that would never let anyone in, the stronghold of the King, where he resided alone.

Oh, it was much worse then he thought.

It had been nearly 10 minutes, each tick of the timepiece tolling the premature setting of that warm morning sun, an imminent warning of red skies and bad tidings. Each tick bringing that darkness ever closer.

Standing there in the office of the penthouse with only a ticking clock to keep his thoughts company, Kirishima knew, he knew the levy of the floodgates had been wrenched open, there was nothing anyone could do to stop the indiscriminant torrent that would wash away everything in its path.

The silence stretched on as the clock ticked.

Had the clock always been that loud?

 

* * *

 

 

It was cold. So cold, why was it so cold?

Akihito rolled over in his sleep, his body unconsciously seeking to find it’s only true source of warmth.

When he found only cold sheets, devoid of any heat, he began to stir.

He noticed an annoying sound, a constant buzzing noise, like a fly trapped in the room.

As he came closer to waking, he thought maybe it sounded more like a mosquito, great, Akihito always had a horrible reaction to mosquito bites, they never seemed to leave him alone.

He opened his eyes, hoping to get up and squish the parasite quickly, and then he could snuggle back into the warm comforter on Asami’s side of the bed.

He always slept on that side once the yakuza left, he liked to immerse himself in his scent, he always slept the most soundly in the mornings as he slept on that side of the bed, bathing in the smells of masculinity and safety. The smell of Asami. It was like a lullaby to his senses, the smell of Asami rendered his prickly front useless in the early hours of each day.

As he finally opened his eyes, he realized it wasn’t a mosquito, it was his phone buzzing against the hard surface of his bedside table.

It was going nonstop, demanding insistently to be looked at, sighing, he picked up the phone.

That was odd, there was nearly a hundred missed calls, and just as many messages.

He browsed through the call list. Mum, Dad, Onii-chan, Mum, Mitarai, his editor, Mitarai, Dad, Kou, Dad, a reporter from The Herald, another reporter he had worked with from The Morning Sun, Mitarai, Mum, Takoto, and so on the list went. Every reporter he had ever worked with was in the missed call list.

What on earth was going on?

Why couldn’t he get warm on the other side of the bed?

As he raised his finger over the messages button, over the latest text from Kou, he noticed it had a photo attachment, his phone rang again.

It was his Dad.

“Hi Dad, is everythi-”

_“Takaba Akihito. Tell me it’s not true.”_

Akihito recoiled from the tone his dad used, his dad, his happy over emotive dad that shared his same passion for photojournalism, one of the biggest names in his time, this person did not sound like his dad, he sounded like a stranger, wait, was that his mum sobbing in the background?

“W-what are you talking about Dad?” came the tentative question.

 _“The front page of the paper.”_ Was all that cold voice said.

It was really getting odd now, Takaba hadn’t gotten any major scoops lately to warrant this sort of attention.

_“So you’re not denying it then?”_

“Denying what? Dad-”

_“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, Akihito. As far as I’m concerned, I have no son. Don’t ever show your face in my house again.”_

In the background, he heard his mum scream, heard her desperate pleas for her husband to pass her the phone, calling for her baby boy as her family was torn asunder.

There was no sound more distressing then when your own mother cried, it left Akihito trembling as the phone hung up.

He wished it really had been a mosquito instead of his phone.

He checked the message from Kou, and suddenly he knew. He felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict, forbidding breath to grace his lungs with life sustaining oxygen.

A tide of darkness flooded through everything, lapping at the coast of his heart, threatening to break its banks and soak everything it touched with its icy infection.

The picture Kou sent was the front page of this morning’s paper.

It didn’t matter though, did it?

Asami would fix it, just like he fixed everything else. He was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

And so he found himself in Asami’s office, he didn’t remember walking there, but he had.

He stood, shivering in the temperature controlled penthouse, staring at Asami who sat at his desk. The cause of Akihito’s chills sitting on his lap.

He vaguely registered Kirishima, who would normally scold him for entering his boss’s office unannounced, but he kept quiet. Why wasn’t anyone saying anything?

The only noise was the stupid clock that he should have taken down ages ago, he hated that fricken thing.

 

Akihito didn’t feel so sure anymore. He felt like he was standing on the precipice, the feeling you get where you could fall forward to safety or crash against the floor at any moment, the longer you stood on the edge, the higher the fall seemed as you wiggled to maintain balance.

 

Akihito’s heart was laid bare in that very room, he knew from the start that their ‘thing’ was like walking around with a loaded gun, with his heart as the target, his life and his livelihood.

There was no safety catch with this gun though, it was forever on the edge of discharging, the only person that could handle the gun was Asami. He had taken control right from the beginning.

The aim of Asami’s words were steady and true as the crime lord pulled the trigger and fired.

“Kirishima, take him away.”

 

There would be no falling forward to safety this time, the earth that was Asami wouldn’t catch him, instead, he felt the very person push him backwards, off the edge and into the abyss alone.

Asami said he would drag Akihito to the abyss once, he never thought he would be going alone.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kirishima waited, he waited for the violent outburst to come surging forth from the quick-tempered blonde’s mouth, he waited for insults and flying objects, but they never came.

Takaba Akihito stood half dressed in the office as the smoke cleared from that fateful barrel.

The lights were on, but no one was home.

 

It felt wrong, so wrong. Kirishima thought the worst explosion would come first, but the bomb was a dud. It wasn’t the blast that would get them, it would be the effects of radiation, impossible to see at first, but as time went on you could see the mutations it would inevitably cause in your heart and soul, infecting you with its filthy cancer until you could no longer recognize yourself.

The secretary remained silent for once, pushing the line between subordinate and friend in the hopes that one of them would break the silence. His hope was short lived as Asami set the nuclear reactor to self-destruct.

“Don’t make me repeat myself Kirishima.”

“Where should I take him, Asami sama?”

“I’ll leave it up to you, anywhere but here will do.”

Kirishima had never been more reluctant to follow his boss’s orders then what he was right now, he would kill for Asami, die for him, serve a life sentence for him, but now he found himself wanting to shout defiance.

To shout out the obvious words that the picture spoke of, words that had never been said, but now more then ever, needed voicing. Everyone knew already, so what was so wrong with saying them now?

Kirishima knew that that was what this situation needed. A cure all, capable of treating the encroaching cancer.

“Now, Kirishima.”

It was no use.

Instead, Kirishima found himself leading a lifeless Tabaka around the penthouse by the cold skin of his wrist, still red with cuff marks, evidence of a luscious endeavor with his boss. The truth was marked on those wrists.

 

He had to clean and dress the boy, who seemed to be stuck in a state of catatonia.

Wherever he led him, bathroom, bedroom or lounge, he would follow with silent footsteps and just stand there. Deaf and blind to the world as the secretary packed a bag for him. He knew the damage had already been done, the tell tale sounds of the boys phone going off without pause told him so.

He supposed that this was what a funeral wake felt like, standing vigil for the dead as it was readied for its final departure.

After the longest 20 minutes of Kirishima’s life, he led the shell of Akihito passed the office door, and down the hall, to the penthouse door.

He wished the hall way was longer, long enough to give either of them a chance to change their mind, but all to soon the front door was upon them, and they exited the penthouse, the door closing shut with a decisive click, like a judges hammer at a sentencing.

 

 

* * *

 

Asami waited until he heard the tell tale click of his front door shutting before he let out the longest held breath of his life.

He always had possessed a sensible heart, he had to make the cut quickly, sharp and clean. It would be easier to heal, leaving less chance of permanent damage and infection.

Too many words would only cause his knife to lose its edge, to dull the blade until it was only capable of rough hacks that left an untidy, festering wound, an ugly scar that would be present for life.

He had swung that blade without mercy, executing the motion flawlessly. A sensible heart indeed.

The more he sat in that chair though, staring down at that damn paper, was that he didn’t know who he had actually cut, Takaba, or himself.

 

* * *

 

Kirishima was meaning to take Akihito to his old apartment, which Asami owned. Having the boys stuff moved back there wouldn’t be too hard, one look at the building,and the street however, told him it wasn’t a good idea.

In fact, it was probably the worst idea.

The street was lined with vultures, the hungry carrion eaters all squabbling amongst themselves to get the best shot of the limo as it slowed in front of the apartment complex. They knew who it belonged to alright, and they knew who was inside.

The tinted windows hid the car’s occupant, the reporters would do anything for a morsel of flesh however, their beaks flashing, filling up the stomach of film with scandalous shots of the limo that carried the traitorous reporter.

There was no way Akihito could go back there. He would be eaten alive.

“Takaba.”

“…Takaba.”

More silence.

“Akihito.”

He watched the haze clear from those eyes momentarily.

“Huh?”

“Is there anywhere I can take you? Your friends place? Parents?”

Kirishima watched as Akihito threw his head back against the leather seat with his eyes shut. He looked peaceful, as if asleep, but the lonely tear that paved a road of sorrow down his cheek said otherwise.

“No…. There isn’t.” came the unfeeling answer, followed by another long silence.

“…..There’s no helping it then, you will have to stay with me for the time being.”

Just because his boss had seemingly abandoned the boy, which Kirishima still refused to believe, didn’t mean he would, and he knew Suoh would feel the same.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

 

"... There's no helping it then, you will have to stay with me for the time being."

Silence stretched out once more.

"No... Hong Kong."

"What?"

"Take me to Hong Kong."

 

Once again, Takaba succeeded in surprising the secretary, it was sick in a way, how much Hong Kong made sense, even to Kirishima.

 

Feilong, the only other person whose life had been utterly destroyed by him, stomped on by those expensive black loafers, the scent of Dunhill invading everything with its possessive tendrils of smoke.

The black smoke engulfed you, left you struggling for clean air, you could fight all you wanted, but that smoke would keep drowning you, flooding into your lungs and life, into everything that you were, until there was no place that smoke hadn’t drenched.

All of a sudden though, without realizing, you were addicted to that second hand smoke, and once it was gone, you couldn’t live without it. The scent of that Dunhill could trick you, trick you into thinking that you needed it.

Really, it was nauseating how much it made sense. Perfect sense. Feilong was the only person who knew how to treat this disease.

 

“Takaba-san…. You know I can’t do that.”

Akihito grunted in acknowledgement before speaking once again in that heartless monotone.

“I figured. You don’t need to call me that either, I’m not anything to you anymore…. Not anything to anyone. Drop me off anywhere, it doesn’t matter.”

Kirishima was trembling at the wheel, looking at the ghost in the rearview mirror. He knew he would be dreaming about those lifeless words for weeks to come. He knew it must hurt, it must be torture, to find out you were suddenly worth nothing.

Worth nothing to the only person that mattered.

Kirishima surmised the boy really was in shock, he would have to find someone to be there for him when it finally sunk in. God knew Kirishima didn’t want to be there when it came to pass, he wasn’t sure he would be able to take it.

Over two years, Kirishima, Suoh and others on his detail all came to appreciate the light that Akihito brought into their darkness, the single flame precious enough to lay your life down for. It was infectious in a different sense.

Kirishima and Suoh often talked about how powerful Akihito was, he would have made a good boss too.

People were attracted to light, wanted to follow it, radiated around it. It was a general principal of life.

The guards were loyal to Takaba not because they were ordered to be, but because they wanted to be. He had infected them all, infected them all with his homemade bento boxes, his pranks and surprise birthday presents, Kirishima knew he had infected the boss too. He was sure of it.

 

 

The car was thrown back into silence as Kirishima directed the limo towards his apartment, granted it was close to Asami’s, at least it wasn’t in the same building complex like Suoh’s was.

As if the thought of the man had summoned him, his phone rung with the ringtone dedicated to his stone faced friend.

Before he could answer, Suoh spoke.

_“Tell me, how bad is it Kei? I’m on my way up to the penthouse now.”_

Ah, he must have seen the morning paper.

“I…. don’t know Kazumi.”

_“That’s not good. What is he, red, brown or navy?”_

Kirishima would have laughed at the question any other time, what started off as a joke had actually become extremely useful the more successful their long time friend had gotten. They had applied colors to Asami’s different emotions, it took their trained eye to tell the difference between a red face and a blue one, but uttering a color to one another and subordinates alike as a warning over the years had saved their asses a hundred times over.

It was easier just to tell the next person on duty that today Asami was red, or orange or whatever he was that day.

Red was angry, meaning he could snap and shoot any minute. Red was a scary color. The color of rage, the color of Hong Kong.

Brown was impatient, when Asami wanted a job done, you got it done fast. Never let Asami show his brown face.

Then there was blue, meaning he was serious and didn’t want to be disturbed. Blue could easily turn into red.

They had a whole list of colors associated with their boss. It was a simple and effective system, easy to learn and hard to forget.

They hadn’t talked about Asami as a color in ages though, they hadn’t needed to with Akihito around.

Akihito had turned the whole company and Asami gold, the color of success and prestige, Asami had done it all to become gold, wiped out all threats and enemies to protect Akihito, and business legal and illegal had thrived as a result. Everyone knew not to touch Akihito, especially after the Sudou Shuu incident, everyone knew, except the media.

_“Kei?....”_

“He’s black Kazumi.”

Black was the worst of all, because it wasn’t a color. Black was unknown territory, where you couldn’t tell what the boss was thinking at all. It was the color of mystery and uncertainty, but also the color of power and authority. Black was not having a clue what Asami was going to do next, and an unreadable Asami was the most dangerous Asami of all. He wasn’t even black in Hong Kong, he was red back then. Black was the face Asami showed to the head of the mafia or the Triads, it wasn’t the face of their childhood friend Ryuichi. It was the face of a stranger.

_“Oh fuck… What about the brat?”_

There was a long silence as Kirishima looked in the rear view mirror again, to see Akihito gazing out the car window, his jaw set firm with his eyes fixated on something outside.

“He’s… black too.”

_“………. Is that a joke? Cos you know you could never get the punch line right.”_

“I wish it was.”

 _“He must be in shock…. What’s happening now then?”_ Trust Suoh to tackle the situation head on.

 

Kirishima, in secretary mode, quickly told him everything that happened that morning, the order to take him away, take him anywhere, the reporters outside the old apartment, how he was taking him to stay at Kirishima’s, which Suoh concluded was probably the best idea. His friends and family would be inundated with reporters if Akihito were to stay with them.

Neither of them had any idea about the call Akihito received from his dad in the penthouse bedroom.

Before he could get to the part about Feilong, Suoh had to go, he had arrived at the penthouse and was going in, to assess the damage for himself.

 _“We’ll fix it Kei, we owe Asami our lives, but we also owe Akihito too. We will fix it.”_ Suoh sounded so sure of himself, but he hadn’t been there, he hadn’t seen Asami’s face, hadn’t listened to that fucking clock for over 10 minutes, he hadn’t felt the cold skin of Akihito’s limp wrist as Kirishima led him out of the penthouse, he didn’t hear they way Akihito spoke as if it was all worthless. As if he was worthless.

 

He pulled into his complex and then showed the hollow body around his apartment, his stuff went in the guest room, Kirishima showed him the kitchen and told him to help himself before finally setting the boy on couch with the TV remote next to him. Then he left for work again, turning around to see Akihito still motionless on the couch. Catatonic once more.

That boy’s back looked so lonely and small against the large frame of the couch, the back of one condemned to a fate worse then death.

It was the back of someone sentenced to be ostracized and ridiculed, to be ousted by society and colleagues, slowly stoned to death in the form of headlines and hot topics.

 

Well, it all depended really, it all depended on what the other half of the news article did about that photo.

Kirishima didn’t understand, the photo didn’t lie, to deny it now would be akin to denying that the sky was blue and that grass was green. As much power as Asami Ryuichi had, he couldn’t change the color of the sky, he couldn’t buy out nature itself and negotiate the terms of the grass’s color.

If it were any other photo, they may have stood a chance.

But, photo was just too perfect.

So why send him away when it was already too late?

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

This week would be dubbed, the calm before the self-imploding storm week.

The scales so precariously balanced it was impossible to tell which way they would tip.

 

Just like Akihito had been, they were all unknowingly walking on the precipice.

This precipice though, was much more dangerous.

The netting that should have provided safety was filled knots and holes, delicate knots tied of uncertainty, and holes that were sure to tear any second, sending you plummeting into the abyss anyway.

The fall was inevitable, the nettings time was limited.

 

* * *

 

On one side of the scale, there was Asami, who went back to life as usual before Akihito.

He attended to business like normal, woke up early, showered, went to the office for legal dealings, and controlled the night in his role as King of the underworld.

He put up that black tie front at meetings, conversed in that cold-hearted way he always had one, disconnected from the world. Above them all.

There was no deviation whatsoever, from his life before Akihito. It was almost frightening.

Kirishima and Suoh questioned their sanity everyday, wondering if the chapter of Takaba Akihito had just been a lie, if they had all imagined it, and Asami was the only one who knew the truth. That it was a fake.

It was like that Sunday morning and its paper never happened, burned out of memory and out of his life, Akihito with it.

When asked about the headline, the yakuza just lit his Dunhill and waited for the next question.

 

* * *

 

On the other side of the scale, there was Akihito.

Akihito, who hadn’t even left the couch the first night when Kirishima came home. The remote was in the same spot he left it, the poor boy was shivering, his skin pale and lips blue, he really did look like an apparition. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the air conditioning on in the middle of winter.

Kirishima got him to do things eventually that night, he told Akihito to eat, and he did. Told him to shower and he complied. He was like a remote controlled human, push the button and it did what you asked without question. Gone was the defiance in those hazel eyes.

The human in his apartment was everything Akihito wasn’t. The demons of the underworld has taken the luminous light and smothered it, Kirishima couldn’t help but feel guilty that he played a part in it.

Finally, at 1am when Kirishima suggested he get some rest did he see the first reaction since that single tear in the limo.

For a few seconds, the boys lips parted in thought and he cocked his head, mouthing the words ‘rest’ and ‘bed’ as it if were a foreign concept. That was all, then it went back to the blank slate as Akihito got up and mechanically made his way to the guest room.

That was the only reaction _all week_ that the secretary had seen, he didn’t shed a single tear, not one cry passed his lips, because there was no emotion at all.

The once expressive photographer had been turned into a lifeless doll, all human emotion and feeling had been ruthlessly extracted by the public, strung up and put on display with that one earth-shattering photo.

He didn’t mention the photo once either, he was exactly like Asami. As if he had just forgotten, though his routine was slightly different.

He didn’t leave the apartment all week, he woke up (if he slept at all), showered and then sat on the couch all day until Kirishima told him to go to bed.

There wasn’t anything else he could do, reporters were out in rabid packs, stalking the streets of Tokyo for any scent of the hypocrite they used to call colleague. He would never work as a photographer again, and it would be a long time before he could show his face anywhere.

Being caught by the media was a lot more dangerous and damaging then anything one of Asami’s underworld enemies could have done to Takaba.

Oh, they could physically abuse him, rape him, kill him even, Akihito would have fought it all to the very end. Would have remained himself, taunting his captors every step of the way.

To be in the medias clutches though, was to be tied up by thousands of invisible threads and stripped of your character while the entire world watched.

They would take away everything that was Takaba, bend him, break him, tear him to pieces, scatter him about in news articles and headlines until his person had been alienated so much that even he wouldn’t know who he was anymore.

They would take it all and more until there was only an empty shell, left without the desire to go on.

So he stayed in the apartment and lived life as if stuck on repeat.

It went against all Kirishima’s instincts to leave Akihito unguarded, for over two years he had caused a shit storm of trouble on his escapades, and he would much rather be trying to catch the brat then staring down at the pathetic creature that shared the same name.

Suoh had come round one night after work to see for himself, and it had shaken the big man to his bones, he had an incredibly soft spot for Akihito.

Seeing Suoh standing there, clenching his fists as he fought to control his pained expression was enough for Kirishima to need a very strong drink to get any sleep that night.

He thought about perhaps calling Takaba’s parents or his friends, but he didn’t know how to even begin to explain the situation, couldn’t begin to explain that Akihito… was not Akihito, and that he didn’t know where he had gone or when he would come back.

 

* * *

 

Suoh Kazumi was exhausted, for such an uneventful week, he shouldn’t have been this tired, if not for Sunday morning.

If he hadn’t gone to Kirishima’s during the week and seen the little brat he was so fond of in that black state.

He fucking hated black.

He never knew how to respond to black. No one ever did.

Seeing Akihito on that couch looking like the world had abandoned him had Suoh feeling sick with the truth of it all, because his whole world _had_ abandoned him, had pulled the earth right out from under his determined feet, all the while twisting the knife in his back.

The knife that had been hovering there the entire time, the knife of corruption and darkness, the knife of Asami Ryuichi, he knew his boss was a cold man, but he never expected this.

Anything but this. Suoh would happily skin someone alive, torture someone to within an inch of their life, taking out finger nails one by one, it was all joy compared to this.

He really fucking hated black. It made him so weary. Hong Kong was a piece of cake compared to this.

 

He thought Kirishima had overblown the situation on that first Sunday morning, but Suoh could see how bad it was now.

That quiet explosion happened, they were all just silently waiting for the first shockwave. It was coming, they could all see the toxic breaker creeping closer, but there was nothing anyone could do. They just had to ride it out and hope that everyone would still be in one piece when it was all over.

It was eerie, how much the two reflected each other in that blackened state, like the only two people actually feeling anything were Suoh and Kirishima instead.

He really loathed black.

 

Suoh stood in the office on Friday night, 5 days after that stupid paper, and thought about all the calls he got that first morning from people that had been assigned to Takaba.

The moment each of them got that morning paper, the first thing they all did was call him or Kirishima.

The first thing they had all done was check on their charge, they all knew what that photo meant. They all knew that perfect photo had condemned him, every single guard that had ever attended Takaba just wanted to make sure he was ok.

They had all gone from protecting him just physically years ago, they all wanted to protect that light inside now too.

Suoh was proud, so proud that the blonde brat could infect the harshest, most ruthless bunch of men he knew.

 

The burly guard snapped to attention in the office when he saw Kirishima’s face at a call he was getting.

He exited the office to take it, leaving him and his boss alone.

The storm was coming closer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Officer Yamazaki, what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

_“Sorry Kirishima san, there was no one else I could call.”_

“What are you talking about Yamazaki?”

_“I have Takaba here at the station…. He was in a fight. Took on a bunch of thugs all by himself. I tried calling his old man… but he just said he didn’t know anyone called Takaba Akihito and hung up.”_

Kirishima braced himself against wall outside the office as the impact of the words hit him. Of course, he never even thought how his old man would take it. That man had taken down some of the biggest criminals in his time with his viewfinder, he knew well and truly who Asami Ryuichi was. It seemed the older Takaba hadn’t taken it well.

Takaba really was alone, even his family had abandoned him at this point.

The media’s merciless onslaught had begun, and they started with cutting away the most precious things Takaba Akihito held dear.

“….. I will be right there. Thanks for the call.”

 

Just like that, the safety net gave way. Sion and its subordinates would be plunged into chaos, chaos filled with questionable loyalties, resignations and blood.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The secretary walked into the private office of the police department to find the ghost he was looking for.

The ghost that was covered in dirt, cuts and bruises. His cheek was swollen and purple, his split lip angry and red, dirt was smeared in his blonde locks and his clothes torn beyond repair. It was the look of despair made physical, the despair that left you ragged and helpless.

The filthy youth sitting in front of the desk looked exactly that. He looked alone and helpless.

“Speak up Takaba, what were you thinking? I told you to stay away from that man at the beginning.” Officer Yamazaki said, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

Kirishima stood and watched the conversation from the doorway.

“I wasn’t thinking, I was dreaming.” Came the simple answer. The answer that made the hairs on Kirishima’s neck stand on end.

Yamazaki sighed in response, he could see the boy wasn’t himself.

“Dreaming to think it was all real. A waking nightmare, who would have thought huh. It was bound to happen, sooner or later.” Akihito barked a heartless laugh as he came to his own realization.

Not wanting to hear any more of those gut wrenching words, Kirishima stepped into the office and took Akihito after a few quiet words with Yamazaki.

 

They had to fight their way out of the station back to the car, reporters had gotten the tip that Akihito was at the station, and they stalked outside like hyenas waiting for the weakened prey to come out of hiding.

The flash of cameras was blinding and the questions deafening, walking the path of madness, the short distance from the front door to the side of the limo. The hyena’s whooped and taunted in their frenzy, stinging words like black-market whore and yakuza’s bedwarmer were lashed at Akihito, whipping him with their goading tongues. Words and comments that would have hurt much deeper then any knife could ever reach. This was the real fight.

Kirishima was once again surprised about how Akihito revealed nothing with that blank face, they hovered around him like crows to a carcass, wanting to strip every bit of flesh off the fallen.

Strip it all until there were only bones, bones to be bleached by the camera flash, his damnation preserved for all time in black and white images.

He thought the young man might shrink away, try to cover his face, swat the pests, but his jaw was set in stone, his features cold, his lifeless eyes bore into them, and they kept their distance.

It seemed he still had brain enough to know how to defend himself against his own.

Before Akihito could step into the limo, his wrist was caught, Kirishima turned, ready to deck who ever it was when he recognized the reporter that he knew Akihito worked often with. Mitarai. That was his name.

“Akihito, is it really true?” was all the other man questioned.

This would be the moment that Kirishima’s heart nearly stopped.

“No.. I guess it isn’t… It never was.”

 _‘It never was.’_  

Kirishima’s sanity took a turn for the worst at those words. Of course it would, part of him went mad at the thought of such betrayal, he couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t comprehend that your own oxygen would smother you, he couldn’t grasp the fact that the sun wouldn’t rise to warm those cheeks again.

The worst part of it all though, was that Akihito sounded like he believed it. He really thought that everything that happened was a lie.

How could you not at this point? The ship had been cut from its mooring, sucked out by the ruthless tide of papers, and left to drift in the depths of it’s own mind.

He looked at the battered shell through the rearview mirror once again, he took in those glazed eyes with bags underneath, the gaunt cheeks and the dirty hair. How could someone lose that much weight in the space of a week?

“Takaba san, why did you go out?”

“Fresh air, I don’t know.” Came the shrugged response.

“In the most dangerous part of town, come on Akihito.” Kirishima used his first name to soften his words, never used to talking to Takaba in such a way.

The boy had gone to a place crawling with thugs and lunatics jacked up on drugs. Lucky there was a police bust at the same time, or he would have been dead within a day.

Kirishima tensed and his breath caught, was that what Akihito wanted? Had he fallen to the depths this quickly?

“… I thought maybe if I was in danger. I thought he might.…”

There was no need to finish that sentence, Kirishima didn’t want him to finish it.

Once again, words better left unsaid. So many words better left unsaid.

Asami wouldn’t be coming to his rescue anymore. Takaba Akihito had been testing to see if the sun would rise again, and it hadn’t.

 

He gripped the steering wheel tight all the way home, too afraid of the shakes that would take him if his hands weren’t anchored down to something.

He couldn’t help but think his white knuckles looked disgusting against the black of the steering wheel.

Two colors that should never be mixed together.

Once the black touched that white, that crisp brilliant white, it would forever be stained, it could never go back to the pure color it once was.

Black tainted everything.

 

 

Kirishima decided he would call Feilong this week.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone should have seen it in the Sion office that morning. Should have seen the small signs that told them chaos was coming.

The abyss was about to swallow them all.

They should have seen the morning after Kirishima picked Akihito up from the police station, that something was… off.

But no one did, no one saw anything.

No one saw that his tie wasn’t tied as tight, no one noticed that his suit didn’t fit as perfect, no one noted the few strands of raven black hair out of place on his head.

No one saw the pitch-black sky before the storm.

Instead, they all heard the first lightning strike, thunder in the form of the dead body hitting the floor, the rain of blood staining the carpet.

Kirishima ran into the office with his gun drawn after hearing the single gun shot.

Only to find the secretary that worked under him face down on the floor in front of Asami’s desk.

A steady flow of red was pooling around her body from the solitary shot to the back of her head.

Kirishima had no idea what she could have done to warrant a death sentence from the boss.

“Boss?”

The only response he got was Asami picking up the newspaper on his desk with those slender fingers and sending its pages flying across the room to settle on top of the lifeless office assistant.

Kirishima looked at the fluttering pages and back to his boss.

He noticed it all then, the tie, the suit and the hair, he noticed the clenched jaw and the white knuckles.

He noticed the front page of the day’s paper with Akihito’s face on it from the night before.

Akihito’s face with its split slip and dirty hair, with his swollen cheek and troubling eyes. A face that would haunt even Asami’s dreams.

 

He watched as the front page landed on the pool of blood, he watched as Akihito’s paper face absorbed the red liquid on the office floor.

He watched as yet another color tainted the once pure white.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Asami lay in the cold bed that very night, the bed which was always cold now.

He lay in the sheets, sheets stained with memories of soft touches and tender kisses, of burning passion and morning antics.

He bathed in the sheets stained with memories, for that was all he had now. It was all he needed, anything to prevent _that_ dream from coming true.

He knew this morning would bring up that dream again, the dream that made him afraid to sleep, which was ridiculous.

Asami was the glowing eyes in the dark. He was that bump in the night. He was the monster under the bed.

The one that induces nightmares shouldn’t be afraid them himself. But he was. Any waking nightmare was better then that dream.

He slept, and he dreamt.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't comfortable with thoughts of suicide, alcoholism and self harm, then stop reading now.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Asami stared down at the paper Kirishima brought up to the penthouse that morning. His secretary was shifting nervously, waiting for the order on what to do._

_Waiting for Asami to roll the dice. The throw that would change everything, and everyone._

_He looked down at the photo on the front page, and the crime lord knew, he knew that this photo was different from all the others._

_Asami and Kirishima had been stopping these sorts of photos before they hit the publishers for a long time, ever since Takaba came into their lives, only a few here and there, the photographers had all been disposed of, gone without a trace, along with the photos they took._

_Most of the photos could have been covered up with a lie or a story, but not this one._

_There was only one truth in this photo, and it was out there, for the entire world to see._

_Asami had to admit, he knew it was bound to happen, sooner or later._

_He was prepared for it, he knew what he was going to do, but this photo… was not like all the others. It changed everything._

_It hit him with a truth that even he hadn’t realized till now._

_Did he really look at the boy like that?_

_Did the empty wind of his heart caress the trees and whisper all the unspoken words between them?_

_Did his golden eyes really look as if they burned for only him?_

_Did it really look like he built his empire to untouchable reaches just for him?_

_Had he always cupped the boy’s chin that way, so preciously?_

_Since when did he loom that protectively, his shoulders a shield to protect the smaller figure embracing him?_

_He looked back up to Kirishima, and Akihito entered the office to stand there, half dressed and shivering. He looked like he was freezing._

_Asami could tell he knew about the photo somehow, for Akihito stood there expectantly, waiting._

_He could see the uncertainty in his eyes, could see his mind ticking over on the precipice._

_There would be no pretending anymore, the media would be out like a flock of hungry carrion birds, it didn’t matter, Asami would shoot them all down, and he would keep shooting them down. Akihito was his and he would not give him up to anyone or anything. Akihito didn’t have a choice. He never did and he never will._

_“Kirishima, stop any further publication, send the paper into bankruptcy and find the photographer that took this photo.”_

_He turned to Akihito, who still looked vulnerable standing there in his own skin, baring his soul for Asami to either crush or caress._

_His question still hadn’t been answered._

_“Akihito, put some clothes on, or I will take it as an invitation.”_

_With that, Asami tossed the paper in the bin next to his desk, certain that his choice was the right one._

_The boys eyes lit up for a second, sparks blazing in the endless fields of hazel. The fire of mischief, the fire of his Akihito._

_“Yeah right, bastard, I will wear what I want in my own house.”_

_“Oho, is that right? Kirishima, I’m taking the day off, it seems Akihito needs to be reminded of who holds his leash.”_

_“Yeah yeah, yeah, you say that all the time, don’t mind me Kei.”_

_Akihito turned on his heel and strutted out of the room, Asami knew there was more on the boys mind, it was a much bigger issue then this._

_That photo, there was no way to cover up that photo._

_“Kei, I really am taking the day off.” Asami said as he rose from his chair to follow Akihito back to the bedroom._

_He found the boy shivering in bed, his phone on the comforter in front of his crossed legs, staring at it as if it were poison. It was in a way, filled with venomous messages from colleagues and reporters, toxic stingers were hidden in each message._

_“My dad….” Akihito said, forlornly._

_There it was, Asami hadn’t got there in time to stop the entire blast, the damage had already been done, and they both knew it._

_Making his way onto the bed, he pinned the body underneath his, rubbing the fabric of his suit against Akihito as he rested on his elbows, trapping his lover beneath him._

_He nuzzled into the soft skin of Akihito’s neck, breathing in the source of his contentedness. The scent of his ambition and his driving force, the reason for his unquestionable role as King of the dark._

_He knew that photo didn’t lie, he could feel it in his bones as he kissed that sweet neck. Connecting with a person like he never had before._

_Asami, the darkness of yin, had found his other half, the light of yang, Akihito._

_“It doesn’t matter Akihito,” the crime lord whispered into his neck, “All you need to do is trust only me, breathe only for me, exist only for me. Don’t ever forget it.”_

_And so he did, the light existed only for the dark, until it was overrun._

* * *

 

_They made the relationship public, sending Tokyo into a frenzy._

_The backlash from the media was enormous, Akihito lost his livelihood, his passion, no one would hire him again._

_In fact he had trouble getting any jobs at all._

_He couldn’t even go out in public for fear of the harassment._

_He tried meeting up with Kou and Takoto, who eventually forgave their friend for hiding everything from them, but they only ended up getting sucked into the media’s storm, so Akihito stopped seeing them altogether, not wanting to involve his friends in his problem._

_He took it all on his shoulders, the weight of their relationship finally resting heavily on the younger man._

_Akihito didn’t belong anywhere, Asami’s people looked at the boy with disgust and disdain, the rich snobs never bothered to hide their hostility._

_He had no place in the world, he was an outcast, a recluse that didn’t fit into any of the molds of society._

_So he confined himself in the penthouse, locked himself away from the world._

_He did indeed exist only for Asami. He breathed for Asami, the only thing he had was Asami._

_The only place he belonged now, was the penthouse on the 31 st floor in Shinjuku. _

_But it wasn’t enough. Waiting the long days at the penthouse for Asami to come home started to take its toll._

_The light started to dull, living for Asami wasn’t enough._

_He was trapped in a cage of their own creation._

_Trapped in the webs of their messed up relationship. The poor little fly struggled to break free of the web, but he had entangled himself much too much, he was stuck the moment he met Asami Ryuichi._

_He gave up struggling._

_The yakuza tried everything, he went to the Takaba family, only to have the older Takaba, Akihito’s father, sneer at him and slam the door in his face._

_On his way back to the limo, a hysterical woman, Akihito’s mother, came pelting down the pathway, pummeling her weak tiny fists into Asami’s arms, crying for her boy back. It looked so pathetic._

_‘Give him back to me’ she said._

_Asami couldn’t do that, Akihito was his._

_He went to his friends, and they asked him to let Takaba go._

_‘He doesn’t belong with you.’ They said._

_To Asami, that was the only place that Akihito belonged._

_To Asami, the only place Akihito belonged was the penthouse on the 31 st floor in Shinjuku. _

_Asami had trapped him in a cage, where Akihito was on display only for him. It was wrong, Takaba was meant for the world, he was meant to shine for everyone._

_The fire that was Akihito couldn’t burn with Asami as the only source of fuel._

_He should have known that from the start, but his need to possess had blinded him._

_And so the crime lord could only stand by and watch as Akihito started to shrink away before his very eyes, the eyes glazed over, clothes became loose and skin became pale._

_After a few months, the fire went out, doused by alcohol and sleeping pills._

_That was the only way the young man got any sleep at night._

_He refused to acknowledge his depression, he kept claiming he was alright, he wouldn’t let anyone in to quell his madness._

_He kept on trying to carry the burden alone._

_Asami came home, later then usual one night, thinking he had a solution to the problem, he had brought a giant estate outside of Tokyo, intending to move his head quarters there, there were mountains and valleys, wild life and endless fields of green. Fresh air and new life.  
It wasn’t the stagnant white penthouse that reeked of day old hate and rotting self-contempt. _

_He hoped it would unlock the confines of Akihito’s mind, hoping the fresh air would stoke those flames once more, burning the venomous thoughts inside his mind away._

_The toxic thoughts that had been recycled for months on end in the penthouse, re-circulated into the boys head without anywhere to be purified, gradually building up their noxiousness._

_Kirishima and Suoh followed him into the dark penthouse, Akihito normally left the lights on for them, and no matter the time, was still usually there to greet them, it was the only thing he had to look forward to each day._

_Cautious, the trio drew their guns and begun to stalk throughout the penthouse suite._

_They heard the gunshot that came from the bedroom, and made their way as one to the source of the noise._

_Asami’s heart was frozen in his chest, it knew. It knew that its source of heat was gone. Asami knew exactly what gun fired that shot._

_They found Akihito slumped against the headboard, his head lolled to the side in death._

_His life essence splattered in a display of red on the pristine white wall behind him, the bullet had gone all the way out the other side._

_Asami’s world stopped as he made his way to cradle the frail figure in his arms, feeling the boy’s last warmth drain from his body, feeling the still warm blood ooze out the giant hole in the back of his head._

_The last warm thing Asami Ryuichi would ever feel. He was already going cold, going colder faster then the lifeless body he was rocking against his chest._

_Colder then the antique steel that Akihito still had in the hand that pulled the trigger, the very antique gun he had tried to throw out once, if only Asami hadn’t brought it back home. If only he had come home at the usual time._

_If only he had made the right choice._

_He sat on that bed all night, cradling the small body, whispering thousands of apologies, he whispered all the unspoken words that he never said, he whispered until his lips were numb, all the words that he should have said._

_And then he cried, each silent sob a confession of his feelings._

_He sat on that bed all night until the red stopped flowing, until the blood went cold, until the red on the wall dried and turned black._

_Until everything turned black._

_His two loyal friends stood vigil the entire time, listening to each whispered word in that quiet bedroom, searing it into their minds lest they forget._

_Lest they forget the memory of Takaba Akihito._

_Takaba Akihito, the resilient young man that had brought them all a little out of their own darkness._

_They paid their respects to their young charge, the weight was finally too much, he had finally given up his fight and freed himself from the cage the only way he knew how._

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

It was 3am the morning after the first explosion at Sion when the crime lord woke with a start, he found his lungs empty, and his bones hollow, clutching the pillow that Akihito once slept on.

Once he stilled his beating heart and managed to breathe again, he got up and made his way to the secret room, to make sure that _that_ gun was really gone.

He had gotten rid of it after the first night he had that dream, months ago.

He told Kirishima to simply throw it away, and the secretary had looked at him like he had two heads. It was worth a small fortune.

But to Asami it represented everything he loathed, it represented the figurative gun that Asami had selfishly pointed at Akihito’s life.

To him it was worth nothing.

He checked the gun safe to make sure it was really gone, and it was.

Not that it mattered anyway, he made the right choice this time.

These walls wouldn’t trap him, couldn’t cage him. Asami had made sure of it.

He made his way back to the bedroom, double taking as the bulge of blankets looked too close to what the lifeless body in his dreams had looked like on that bed.

Instead, he went to linen cupboard for new blanket and settled on the couch.

He couldn’t sleep in that bed again, the bed that reminded him of his worst nightmare.

 

* * *

 

**Well, it’s midnight and I just finished typing this, and am eager to post it to get it the nerves out of my system and sleep.**

**If you couldn’t tell, the italics were Asami’s dreams.**

**Any questions message me, if you have flames keep them to yourself.**

**Hope this chapter makes sense hahaha. I am tired.**

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, THANK YOU ALL, thank you so much for all your reviews, I would love to reply to each and everyone, but that would take me a while. But I want to let every person know that I read them in earnest, and they all mean a lot to me. Each and every word. So thank you again, and I hope people continue to tell me what they think about my writing, it helps keep me going when I get stuck.  
>  
> 
> Welcome Sumewari Jun from Setsuna24’s Ride the wind! If you’re not familiar with his character go read it, otherwise, he is Akihito’s personal guard and good friend. Kuroda’s nephew, he is extremely capable and loyal, and was employed to be Suoh’s second until he was assigned to Akihito. He is pretty fucking bad ass.
> 
> Thanks Setsuna, for letting me borrow his character!
> 
> Also, have no idea how I am going to top that last chapter, sorry haha!

* * *

Suoh had to admit he wasn’t surprised. The situation he was presented with was bound to happen, sooner or later.

Especially after all last week’s events. It had been only 10 days since that Sunday morning paper, 10 extremely long days.

Suoh’s wish that it was all just a nasty dream and he would wake up any second now hadn’t come true. Thus he was looking at the paperwork on his desk, the first signs of cracks in the foundations, leading to the inevitable fall of an empire. The first piece had been yanked out unceremoniously, the corner stone of it all, it’s name was Akihito.

He looked at the handful of resignations on his desk that had started coming in after it was evident Asami had no intention of even acknowledging that Akihito existed anymore. Resignations from people who had all been assigned to Takaba Akihito.

Akihito meant a lot to them all, more to them then he did to Asami apparently. It was as if Asami had pulled his heart out of his chest, tossed it aside and simply decided he didn’t need it anymore.

If Asami could do that to Akihito, then where did that leave them?

Loyalty worked both ways in the underworld.

Suoh found himself angry at the fact that he didn’t begrudge the men such thoughts.

Confirmation of his deliberations was standing right in front of him, with his own resignation in hand.

“Jun, you’re sure about this?” he questioned the younger man, only a few years older then Akihito. Sumewari Jun had more then proven himself in being worthy to be Takaba’s personal guard. He was Suoh’s replacement should something ever happen to him, someone like him was resigning, this was bad.

“Yes Suoh san, I was employed to protect Akihito, and since Asami sama threw him under the bus, I don’t feel the need to work for Asami anymore. Akihito’s friendship means more to me then this.”

Suoh didn’t miss the anger there, even if you were blind it would be easy to see.

“Alright, I’ll arrange your payout and you can be on your way.”

Sumewari bowed.

“Thank you, also, Kou and Takoto have been on my case since the first paper came out. They want to see him, and so do I.”

Suoh took a deep breath, feeling weariness ease its way in as he recalled what Akihito looked like after Kei picked him up from the cop shop. What Kirishima said Akihito had done. Akihito’s reckless attempt to cling to his own light. It was all for naught. That bruised face, a reflection of what they all felt like on the inside.

“I’ll talk to Kirishima, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You wont like what you see.”

“Shit, that bad is it?” Pain flashed across the younger mans face, more pain then the two involved had shown this entire 10 days.

“It is that bad.” Suoh admitted.

“Tsk, fucking hell. This is bullshit.” Sumewari slammed his resignation down on the desk and stormed out. The slap of the paper on the desk, another lightning strike in the fermenting storm.

Asami betrayed Akihito, in the worst possible way. He had clipped his wings, shredded the pure white feathers beyond repair, and then set him free in the gusts of his own helplessness.

To betray Akihito was to betray them. The one eventuality everyone thought would never happen, the sky would fall before that happened, the rivers would stop flowing and mountains would crumble before that happened, or so everyone thought.

If you couldn’t trust the boss……. No, Suoh wouldn’t finish that thought.

The blonde guard let out a tired sigh, between cleaning up after dead secretaries and treading lightly around Asami, the man found himself exhausted, he would much rather a few turf wars at the same time then this. He would have laughed if it weren’t so goddam sad, only Takaba Akihito was capable of causing this much trouble.

Suoh had no idea what Asami was thinking at this point. That fucking black façade was still rearing its ugly head, despite how tired Asami looked.

Oh yes, Suoh didn’t miss the bottles of empty whiskey added to the recycling each morning since the secretary incident, the comforter on the couch instead of the bed, it seemed the man was human after all. You could put on that mask and deceive everyone else, but you couldn’t trick your own feelings. Suoh knew that much.

The only difference between the condemned lovers now, was that the photographer knew too well that he couldn’t live without Asami, but Asami had yet to figure out he couldn’t live without Akihito, the bodyguard wondered what it would take for him to realize that fact, the fact that everyone knew, except him.

He thought about Kirishima’s suggestion, to send the boy to Feilong, it would be wrong to go behind Asami’s back and contact the Chinese Baishe leader, but it was starting to look like the only option.

He knew that Kirishima was all for it, Suoh would still rather not.

Still rather not admit that it was indeed that bad.

The bodyguard hoped they could fix this mess before it was too late.

He dialed Kirishima’s number, to tell him the bad news about Sumewari, and to see what they should do about Akihito’s friends.

He was so tired.

 


	9. Chapter 9

For the first time in 10 days, Kirishima felt like he had made the right choice, he knew the right choice in the first place would have been to risk his life and keep Akihito in the penthouse, but it was much too late for that.

The glass had already left his hands, they were all just waiting for the moment it hit the floor, and shattered into fragmented pieces, only once something broke completely could you pick up the pieces and try to put it back together. They were all waiting, waiting for that moment where Akihito would finally break. At the moment he was just a brittle vessel, desperately holding itself together.

Kirishima and Suoh had a deal, if this went wrong, he could finally put the call to Feilong.

Still, he looked at the three young men in the back of the limo, and hoped like hell Akihito’s friends would have the effect him and Suoh were after.

He hoped that tonight, he would finally break in the company of his friends, so that Akihito’s twisted tale would be one step closer to being over. That didn’t say anything about Asami’s own journey though, Kirishima knew his was just beginning. His boss was only just beginning to feel the pain of losing something you can’t replace.

The question on everyone’s mind was still unanswered. Why?

 

Kou, Takato and Sumewari looked grim as they sat in the back of the limo, Suoh had warned them during the ride on the way to Kirishima’s apartment what to expect. It was only fair.

Only fair that they knew what they were getting themselves in for.

Only fair that they knew they would be seeing a shadow of their friend. No one should have to see that without warning.

Well, there was one person who should see it, needed to see it.

Asami Ryuichi needed to see what he had done.

He needed to see the fire he had smothered with his own two hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Akihito lay on the cold leather couch, resting his hands behind his head, looking at the blank white sealing. White was such a nice color, the color of nothingness.

He longed for the feeling where he could feel that nothingness. He wanted to drown in that nothingness, submerge in it, and drown his demons. His demons knew how to swim though, no matter how hard he fought to go all the way under, they would keep him afloat.

Afloat in memories, memories of golden eyes, all knowing and safe, memories of soft sheets and strong arms. Memories of fire.

How long had it been since he felt that fire? Something in the back of his mind told him it hadn’t been long, a week or two maybe?

His body told him it had been forever though, his body, which now felt cold, a cold that rendered him bereft. Cold for too long. Feeling nothing was a lot better then feeling cold.

He kept wondering why the sun wouldn’t warm him anymore. Why?

All he wanted to do was lay in that sun and feel the heat seep into his bones.

Distantly, as if his ears were filled with water, he heard voices enter the apartment, voices he knew, a lot of them. Maybe one of them was the voice he wanted to hear?

He sat up on the couch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fleeting sun, and knew instantly it wasn’t there. One could hope, couldn’t they?

No, hope was the most painful emotion of all.

That, he didn’t want to feel, but it was the only feeling left, soon, it would be frozen too. Soon.

He did know the faces though, and though they weren’t the sun, they were still stars, giving off a little bit of light in the darkness.

He knew the stars should make him smile, like they always did in the past. So he tried to move his frozen face, tried to smile so that they couldn’t see how cold he was.

“Hey guys.” He tried to sound warm as Kirishima and Suoh walked in, followed by Kou, Takato and Sumewari.

 

Kirishima and Suoh knew, they knew instantly that their plan had failed. They knew the moment that Akihito tried to smile.

One of those heart wrenching smiles that shouted, ‘I know, I’m a wreck, but please don’t pity me.’

That cold attempt at a smile, those blank eyes, coupled with the colorful bruises on his face, and the stitches in his lip, it was all too much for Suoh to take. How was it possible to fix this?

“Alright Kei, call Feilong now.”

Before Suoh even finished speaking, his friend had the phone to his ear.

 _“Kirishima, is the reason you’re calling what I think it is?”_ came the sad voice from the other end.

“Yes…. It is. We… need your help Feilong.”

_“He really let him go?”_

“He did.”

 _“That stupid man, here I thought he was smarter then that. But he can’t see the forest for the trees.”_ Feilong sounded angry, and rightfully so.

Even he knew the truth of it all.

The Baishe leader sighed before continuing.

_“What can I do?”_

“Takaba, he asked to go to Hong Kong. Sad as it is, and as wrong as it is, you’re probably the only person that can reach him now.” Kirishima knew deep down, when he spoke those words that it was right. Oh how he wished it weren’t, but Feilong was the only one who had been broken in such a way before. Feilong was the only person who knew how to put the pieces back together.

_“Really, I should slit Asami’s throat and take over Japan for his idiocy, he should have just left him with me in the first place if he was going to do this…. I will be in Tokyo in 3 days to pick him up.”_

Before Kirishima could reply to the irritated Chinese, he hung up.

“He’s coming.” Kirishima said to Suoh, who relaxed at hearing the words.

“Thank god for that.”

 

The helpless pair turned to watch the scene before them. A tragic play, perfect in making the observers feel like the only thing they could do was stand and watch as the miserable scenes played out before them.

They watched as Sumewari stood clenching his fists, anger writ on his face as he looked down at his broken friend.

They saw as Kou and Takoto descended on the couch, their attempts to comfort their friend were in vain as Akihito smiled that sad attempt of a smile. They watched as Akihito put on the warmest face he could manage, they watched as he failed miserably, his cold eyes giving it all away, those eyes that knew no warmth, no fire.

They were powerless to change the plot no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how much they might not like it, they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the events unfolding before them. All they could do was hope for a happy ending.

 

“Fuck this shit.” Sumewari growled, making his way to the door.

“What are you doing Jun?” Suoh questioned.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to see Asami and tell him what he’s done. I am gonna give him a piece of my mind. What sort of heartless bastard can do this to a person?”

“Don’t be reckless Sumewari.” Suoh responded gruffly.

“Reckless, don’t talk me about reckless! You think I can just stand by and do nothing, while he looks like _that?!_ I can’t even fucking recognize him as the Akihito I once knew. It’s not right, why should this have to happen to the person who least deserves it! Reckless is nothing compared to bullet I want to put in that fuckers brain right now!”

The last words were a shout as Sumewari slammed the door, the relief that Suoh and Kirishima felt was short lived.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

“Shit!” A very scary realization hit Suoh, hit like the lighting they were trying to desperately to avoid, to divert down another path, any other path but this one.

The lightening was capable of severing bonds, indiscriminate, just like the bullet, once it was fired it didn’t matter who was in its path, it would hit no matter what, and it would send them deeper into the great divide.

“Let’s go Kei. He still has the access key to the penthouse.”

 

He didn’t wait to see Kirishima’s face, he just ran.

 

The burly giant shot out the door, as fast as he ever could. He hoped like hell it was fast enough to prevent the worst. He couldn’t shake the thunder rattling his bones however, he knew it was almost futile.

Hope really was the worst emotion of all, it could trick you into thinking everything was going to be fine. When really under the surface what you thought was an unsightly nightmare, was reality in truth.

Still he hoped, hoped that he would somehow wake up from this fucking dream any second now, he hoped they would make it in time.

 

One of the reasons Sumewari was so good at his job was because he was the only person who could keep up with Akihito. Which meant that Kirishima and Souh didn’t have a chance at catching up with him as all three men sprinted the two blocks to Asami’s building. Sumewari was getting further and further away, and so was any hope they had of fixing this mess.

If Asami killed someone in their upper circle, oh he might have resigned, but he was still in the handful of people that could be trusted completely, if Asami killed Jun….. the domino effect would be unfathomable.

Suoh couldn’t allow that to happen. Wouldn’t allow that to happen.

His lungs pleaded for respite as he ran, but he would show them no mercy, he would make it in time even if it meant coughing his lungs up, a sacrifice to whatever god he prayed was watching.

It was the longest two blocks of Suoh’s life. The pavement stretched out before him, infinite tunnel vision, the concrete endless. He could hear Kirishima’s footsteps behind him, the pitter-patter of rain in the never-ending storm they had found themselves in.

A pitch-black storm, blocking out that golden sun, which they had all strived so hard to reach.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jun felt weightless, fueled by thoughts of retaliation and the searing image of his hapless friend.  His legs had never moved so fast, each muscle in his legs driven by emotions and the one vision of that lifeless smile, all ignited by that Sunday paper.

It was the smile of a puppet, fake and unfeeling, cold.

Akihito wasn’t a puppet, Akihito was full of life and animation, he was warm, or he had been, until Asami threw him to the wolves.

Jun had never felt such rage, all encompassing, he understood what it felt like to ‘see red’.

He finally understood that word, red.

He was so angry. His legs moved faster as he entered the bottom floor of the building.

The red haze blocked out everything as he stood in the elevator on the way up to the 31st floor.

Had the elevator always taken this long to reach the top?

He took 12 steps down the corridor like he had every other morning to that penthouse door, swished his access card and entered the threshold of the biggest wolf of all.

5 steps down the hall to the open living space, where he found Asami looking his usual self in his three-piece suit, reading the paper in his recliner with a bottle of whiskey and tumbler on the stand next to him.

Oh he was having a fucking good time of it like usual, while Akihito tried his hardest to put on a show for everyone else with that pathetic smile. It was sickening.

 

“Why are you here Sumewari?” Asami questioned coolly over the top of his paper.

He could feel Jun’s murderous intent. Any one could feel it, he reeked of antagonism and ire. He permeated red, polluting the black shroud of the penthouse.

“You…. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to Akihito?”

Sumewari retorted with equal ice of his own.

If Sumewari wasn’t so furious, he would have seen the way the crime lord stiffened, the way his hands crumpled the edges of the paper, he would have heard Asami’s rampaging heartbeat at the mention of Akihito’s name, trying to break its way out of the confines of Asami’s ribcage.

“Why?” Sumewari questioned.

“Do not question me Sumewari.” Asami warned, his eyes narrowed, the black shroud was getting darker.

“Oho, I will sure as hell question you when Akihito looks like a sickly ghost, pretending everything is ok! You have ruined him utterly and completely, and after all your talk of never letting him go.”

“No more Sumewari.” Asami’s tone was final, packed with all the punch of the rightful crime lord that he was.

“No more or what? Are you that afraid of the truth? Are you such a coward to your own emotions? Or were you so disgusted to see his face in the paper that you shot the fucking secretary for bringing it to you? Speak Asami! Tell me!” Sumewari had already gone passed the point of no return, that color red had pushed him over the line, spitting the words out of his mouth.

“Stop now, Sumewari. Or you wont live to regret it.” Asami snarled as he threw the paper down onto the adjacent couch and drew his gun from its holster to point it at the former guard.

The penthouse door opened again, Suoh and Kirishima came dashing in, their presence ignored as the crime lord and Sumewari locked gazes.

Kirishima paled as he saw the swirling mass of red and black attack each other.

Suoh silently cursed the moment he caught sight of the gun.

 

The words Sumewari spoke next struck too close to home for Asami, too close to his heart and too close to that dream.

That dream, among many others that kept him awake until the morning light.

“Do it, pull the trigger, blow my fucking brains out. It’s a kinder fate then what you dealt Akihito.”

And so Asami Ryuichi snapped, he pulled the trigger, the thunderous noise ricocheting off the stark walls of the penthouse.

He pulled that trigger, firing 4 shots in quick succession, each one of them a lighting strike, they ripped through various body parts.

First, the shoulder, the torso came next, followed by a shot in the upper thigh, the last one was going straight for his heart, straight for the kill, if it weren’t for Suoh.

Suoh, who began to move the moment he took it all in, Suoh who pushed Jun out of the way and caught that last disastrous bullet in his upper arm. Sending a now bleeding Sumewari sprawling to the floor as the drips of red rained on the floor.

The silence that followed left a shell-shocked ringing in everyone’s ears.

Suoh was already in action despite his arm, collecting Sumewari off the floor and heading for the door. He would be dead in soon if they didn’t act fast enough, they could only hope. That stupid word again.

 

“Fuck!” Asami bellowed, standing, he dropped the gun from his trembling hand.

Kirishima looked at his friend, really looked at him, saw the pain travel across his face, he watched that black façade slip.

He saw the grey anguish underneath.

“Ryuichi?” Kirishima questioned, not as his subordinate, but as his friend for 30 years.

Asami stood there, his tensed body shaking with the tension, looking down at the paper he had thrown on the couch.

Kirishima’s eyes followed Asami’s, travelling to the paper on the couch.

The ringing in Kirishima’s ears got louder as his eyes set on the crumpled headlines.

Deafening questions screamed at him as he looked at the photo on the front page.

It was the perfect photo, the photo that was released not two weeks ago, the photo that held heat and security, the photo that told the truth.

So why?

“Why?” Kirishima whispered.

“Get out Kirishima.” Asami breathed, picking up the whiskey bottle on the stand.

He took long swig, craving the fire that the liquor would bring him, a short reprieve from the now permanent cold he felt.

“Why?” Kirishima questioned again.

“Just get out!” the boss tone was back.

Kirishima took one last look at the pair in the photo before rushing after Suoh, the golden pair, now apart, but trudging to the beat of the same indifferent drum in their own little hell, and dragging everyone along for the ride.

Kirishima heard his long time friend swear as he neared the door.

“FUCK!”

The last thing he heard was the sound of the bottle smashing against the penthouse wall as Asami hurled it with everything he could.

It was such a sad sound, the sound of glass breaking, the sound of his friend breaking.

Asami Ryuichi’s impenetrable fortress had been breached by the storm, the storm that he himself had created.

And Kirishima still didn’t know why.

Now though, now he was on damage control, they’d lost sight of the safety net and were falling further into the abyss.


	11. Chapter 11

 

* * *

 

 

Asami knew one thing as he stood trembling in his tarnished penthouse: he needed more whiskey. He’d just wasted half a bottle against the wall over there, the wall stained with his fury, the glass on the floor littering his perfect control, the blood next to it tainting the moat around his fortress.

He needed whiskey to wash all feeling away, he wanted the tide of alcohol to erase all coherent thought, so he could walk away from his own mind, even if it wasjust for a short while.

For a short while, he needed it to chase away that dream, he needed it to drink the pain down, until he had to go back to being Asami Ryuichi.

 

He understood now, why people drank their cares away, why people lived under the disguise of alcohol.All the money in the world couldn’t do it, but alcohol could.

Alcohol could wipe that one four-letter word away, that four-letter word and everything associated with it, it could sweep away the complications, the turmoil, it could drown out the headlines, it could send everything away, not permanently, but the short respite was enough to make him lose himself in his tumbler

If he could, he would buy love out of the dictionary, out of existence, but even with all his fortune, it was something he couldn’t accomplish with money, so alcohol would have to do.

If that word disappeared, then so would the cacophony of four letter words that went alongwith it.

Love….. hope, need, heat, gold, King, true.

Everything that Akihito had awakened in Asami. Hope for a happy ending, the need for his presence, the necessity of his heat, the heights of gold he reached just for him, crowning himself King, the truth was he did it all for those feelings, for Akihito.

 

To Asami, they all went hand in hand with another set of four letter words. They always had and they always would, he knew that now.

Hate, envy, pain, fear, cold, lies.

The increased hate for his enemies, the envy he felt for other’s close to Akihito, the pain when he was in danger, the fear of not being able to protect him, the cold penthouse he left behind, the lies he told to himself.

All of those words held hands and walked a path that regrettably led to onlyone place, an inevitable destination for a man like Asami, all brought about by that first word. The destination was the worst word of all.

Ruin.

Love, if he could buy that one word away, that trigger word, then all the others would disappear, leaving only him and Akihito.

Love, he would get rid of it the only way he knew how. Alcohol.

He’d lost his muse, the amber liquor in the bottle could be his new one, the color made a mockery to the lustrous gold he once felt.

 

He fetched more from the bar, and began drinking anew before he even set himself down on the couch, next to the photo that started this mess.

He sat and drank, for a long time, going over realizations in his head.

He always considered himself a smart man. He _was_ a smart man. Everyone knew it. He could solve any problem, broker any deal, negotiate the worst terms. Asami Ryuichi could find a way around anything and everything. That was who he was.

But it was he who was the problem this time, it would always be the problem, a cold hard truth he never wanted to admit.

 

Asami Ryuichi had never felt the weight of what he was more than what he did now.

 

This media ruckus would pass eventually, like it always did, he knew he could see it through with Akihito. He knew it. It was just a dream,but what the dream told him, what it represented, that was still the most important thing of all.

He could still hear the sound of the gunshot, the cooling blood on his hands felt so real, the glint of the silver pistol in the moonlight burning itself into his waking memory, along with the weight of Akihito’s lifeless body against his chest.

All the images of that dream ricocheted inside his head, along with the realizations that went with it.

 

If it wasn’t that, it would be another thing, Akihito would still lose his job, his family, all credibility. Even if he pulled through the worst of it, Akihito would still be left with nothing but Asami, the very person who caused it all.

And Akihito would come to hate Asami for it. Truly hate him.

Who wouldn’t, after all that?

 

If it wasn’t the press, it would be something else, his enemies, they would either target Akihito until he was dead, or Asami would die saving him. Both options leftthe other alone in the abyss anyway.

As long as Akihito was with Asami, he would always be at risk, he would always be a weakness that could be exploited, and sadly it worked both ways.

Asami was Akihito’s weakness, snooping around the most dangerous of scoops at the mention of his name. Asami wouldn’t be able to save him from them all if ever they went pear shaped.

Once already, one of the tips Akihito received about arms dealing and Asami had been fake, a trap to lure the pesky journalist and the master in so they could both be finished off.

That had been close. He should have realized then.

 

They could never have a normal relationship, Akihito’s family wouldn’t accept a man like him, just as Akihito didn’t belong in the world that Asami came from. It really was the difference between black and white, both on the opposite sides of the color spectrum, separated by thousands of other colors that would forever be between them, obstacles, insurmountable walls.

 

It didn’t matter what choice Asami made, there would always be _something_ that would come between them, and Asami was the cause of that something, because of who he was, there would always be that something.

 

Asami _was_ the eye of the storm, he was the noose around his neck, he was the shadow creeping in to taint the light.

He was the saviour, and the destroyer. One didn’t need a saviour, if there was no destroyer though.

Akihito wouldn’t need rescuing, because without Asami, there would be no danger, without Asami he wouldn’t be on the front page, without Asami he would still have his family, without Asami he would still have his life.

Without Asami, Akihito could be Akihito, the criminal photojournalist, all Asami had to do was deny it all, to tell the press it was all a farce, which he couldn’t bring himself to do, not yet, that was one lie he didn’t think he could tell. So he had done nothing. He'd simply shut it all out.

 

That dream made him realize, it wasn’t their relationship that was the loaded barrel.

Asami wasn’t even the gun, or the trigger. He was the bullet.

The bullet that ended it all, the bullet that killed him.

Love, that four letter word was the trigger.

If he removed that word, and himself from the equation, it would all be fine in the end.

It was the only choice.

This was, in truth, the kindest thing he could ever do for Akihito, it would just take time for everyone to come to the same realization, to the same choice.

As he drifted off to sleep on the couch, next to that photo, Asami Ryuichi finally felt the burden of being King.

 

 

The crime lord gasped awake, his body cold and clammy, covered in sweat. He pressed his palms to his eye sockets to relieve some of the building tension caused by whiskey and stress. No matter how much he slept, he was always tired. The cold did that to you, and there was no warmth to invigorate him now.

Not anymore.

He looked down at his hands after a moment, expecting to see Akihito’s blood covering them, they felt so heavy and so stained. Heavy with the weight of regret, stained with mistakes and bad choices.

He’d had that dream again, the dream that served as a constant reminder that he had to ride this one out. Time would pass and everything would go back to the way it was before. That’s what he had been trying to do. He knew people thought he was insane, but for Asami, it was his only way of coping.

He didn’t ever think, for one moment, that it would be this hard to live without his warmth, without his smile at breakfast, or the morning embraces under the sheets, without the person who made his house a home.

He chuckled a mirthless rumble. Ofcourse it would be hard, there was no rain without clouds, no thunder without lightning. One without the other just didn’t happen.

 

Asami found himself in the scalding hot tile shower of his bathroom, willing the stinging stream to inject warmth into his weary muscles.

The wound had begun to turn, and all the alcohol in the world couldn’t disinfect it. He hoped a burning hot shower could at least rinse away some of it.

 

As he stood under the showerhead, he was reminded of another word that went perfectly in this mess, lust.

Only Akihito was capable of driving him crazy with that feeling, the mere thought of all the things they’d done in this very shower was enough to ignite that flame again.

His groaned as he thought of yet more words, kiss, lick, bite, suck.

All fuelled by his lust for Akihito, he pictured doing all those things to said person. Kissing those perfect lips, licking that soft neck, biting those sweet nipples, sucking his delicious….. just sucking everywhere. Marking him with another four-letter word, Mine.

He leant against the cold tiles, running his hand in the crease of his hip, just like the way Akihito did, Akihito loved that crease.

He pictured a smaller tentative hand grasping his hardness, with the will to please, stroking him slowly from base to tip, the way he’d been taught. How Asami liked it most, he groaned at the thought.

His breathing deepened as he pictured his hand as that smaller one, leaning up against the cold tile wall.

Stroking himself with the image of Akihito on his mind, he could almost forget everything, he could almost forget that it was all another four letter word.

Gone.

He stifled a growl as he quickened his pace, pulling the skin up and down, gliding his thumb over the tip, the way Akihito used to do it.

His breathing grew heavy as he gripped harder, driving his hips into his hand, he threw his head back as he whispered Akihito’s name and shot his pearly white load all over the tiles to be washed away.

 

Everything was washed away, those words, the alcohol from his system, his momentary relapse in control, it was a new day, and he was back to being Asami Ryuichi. Back to being King.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The secretary shivered on the runway at the air port as the northern wind cut through his suit, it wasn’t that he was cold, it was the plane he was waiting for that was the cause of his body temperature dropping. Feilong’s private jet.

Kirishima was nothing short of bone tired right about now, for the past 3 days they had been trying to keep the incident of Asami shooting Sumewari quiet, for fear of their own men walking and rivals finding out about the organization’s currentinstability.

He wasn’t sure how much it would take for an enemy to find that chink in the armour.

Kirishima had to deal with two turncoats already. The culprits found themselves wrapped in a concrete blanket, sleeping at the bottom of Tokyo Bay.

The first had offered to turn double agent for a small time arms dealer, ironically enough, the person he approached actually worked for Asami as a spy in their midst, he contacted Kirishima while the man was still in his office, Kirishima and Suoh had been waiting for him outside the building when he came out, much to the mans mortification, and imminent death.

The second offered to give more information about Asami and Akihito’s relationship to the press in exchange for money set up by a yakuza group, luckily, another subordinate who still knew where his loyalties lay, caught him on the phone and subdued him enough to bring him to Suoh’s office.

Kirishima winced at that memory, Suoh had been mad, even with his shot up arm, the man wasn’t recognisable as he sunk to the depths of Tokyo Bay, an angry Suoh was scary, especially when it came to Asami or Akihito.

 

Times might be… questionable, but to Kirishima and Suoh, it was never an excuse for betrayal. The secretary and bodyguard dealt with them personally.

 

Jun was still in an induced coma under the care of Asami’s personal doctor. He was stable, but it would be a long time before he was capable of working again. The only thing that really covered their asses was his resignation prior to the incident, which meant they didn’t need to explain his sudden absence from work.

 

Most seemed none the wiser. Asami was ready for work the next day. His eyes seemed a little darker, and the lines of his face more etched and cold. The crime lord persona was coming to the fore in his everyday life now, even in his legal business.

Kirishima knew though. He couldn’t forget the sound of that bottle smashing. He knew his boss was hurting.

Everyday he still wanted to know why. Why now?

They had gone passed the point of no return long ago, which is why Kirishima still couldn’t shake his unnerve as he stood with Suoh on the tarmac, waiting for Feilong’s jet to arrive.

If Kirishima was unnerved, then Suoh would be considered frantic.

The only reason Kazumi had come, was to make sure the Baishe leader didn’t pull anything dodgy with Akihito.

He wasn’t too keen on the Feilong idea still.

His protective streak for Akihito was getting longer each day, Kirishima woke up to text messages from Kazumi asking how Akihito was that morning, and if he had eaten his breakfast or not, he really didn’t want to see Akihito go.

If Suoh didn’t live in the same building as Asami, no doubt Akihito would be at his house instead.

 

Asami wasn’t backing down, they each approached him once on the matter of Akihito, and their boss had just told them to leave it and get back to work, forbidding them to bring the matter up again, every inch of him daring them to keep going lest that black flash to red once more.

Kirishima thought it was too soon for another lightning strike, so he let it drop for now.

Suoh stomped out of the office after his attempt, any other time, Kirishima would have laughed, it was hilarious to see Suoh in a huff.

It was rare for Asami to keep them in the dark about anything, but the one thing they wanted to know most, was something he wouldn’t tell them.

Tension in the office was high, but luckily the damage seemed minimal in the three days after Sumewari’s shooting, Kirishima should feel relieved, if it weren’t for the jet landing on the runway.

 

He saw Suoh stiffen beside him as the plane slowed down on the runway to stop in front of them and their waiting car, it took a few minutes for the turbines to stop and be strapped in place, for the door and steps to be brought down, and finally for Feilong and Yoh to make their way down said steps towards them. The word relief was fleeing for its life as tension chased it away with its menacing claws.

 

Feilong walked up to them, serious and with all the grace of the trained assassin he was, Yoh inclined his head in greeting, knowing no words needed to be spoken to his former colleagues.

“Take me to him.” was all Feilong said.

With those words, that tone, Kirishima trusted Feilong implicitly with Akihito, he saw Suoh let out a breath beside him, relieved at last.

The words not spoken in a rush, but spoken with the utmost care, with understanding, he understood what this situation needed, and he was the only person that could give it, and the look in his eyes said he would give everything he had.

Relief at last.

The four men quietly hopped in the waiting BMW and made their way to Kirishima’s condo, silence accompanied them for the entire ride. Unlike Akihito’s friends, Feilong and Yoh didn’t need any warnings about what they would be seeing, they had seen it in Feilong himself years ago.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Feilong stood quietly in the hall as Asami’s secretary unlocked his apartment, it was remarkable, how this strange bunch of men had come together, it was an impossible thought, everyone of them in the same space, civil, but here they were.

All in silent understanding, a weird sort of trust given to one another to let their grudges go just this once.

It was a comfortable silence in the company of Asami’s subordinates.

There was the tall blonde, Suoh, a juggernaut if Feilong ever saw one, his eyes constantly on the move, always looking around him for threats, a man worthy of being Asami’s bodyguard for sure.

Then there was Kirishima, the secretary, his eyes held wisdom, his stature carried calm and poise, but he looked so tired, weary. They both did.

Part of the reason was behind the door they were standing in front of.

Underneath it all, Feilong was anxious, anxious to get to Akihito, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and tell him he could weather this storm, just like Feilong had.

It might seem impossible to Akihito now, lord knows it had to Feilong, but the skies would clear eventually, and on the other side of the front, the sun would still be waiting, shining down on his back as he set forth on a new journey, warm once more.

“He will probably be on the couch staring up at the ceiling, he does that most days.” Kirishima commented as he pulled the lever down, how long did it take to open a damn door, Feilong thought, the past three days had all slowed down to this moment.

If it weren’t for business and meetings, the Baishe leader would have come right away, but finally he was here, Akihito was on the other side of that door.

Kirishima and Suoh turned to look at him expectantly as the door swung open, beckoning for Feilong to enter first.

His heart was beating with apprehension as he took a few steps into the abode of Asami’s subordinate, into the open living space.

The couch was just there, it’s high back hiding the body that belonged to the feet dangling off the edge.

Everything else faded out, he didn’t register the other three come in behind him, the only thing there was right now was that couch and the person on it.

“Akihito.” He called out softly as he made his way closer to the couch.

“F-feilong?” came the whispered question as the withered body sat up on the to look over the backing.

Feilong saw it all, he saw his previous self, the gaunt cheeks, the hollow eyes and pale skin, sucked dry of everything, a fragile shell that needed breaking so it could be put back together.

He saw the blank face register surprise before it happened, before he saw the pure anguish grip his soul, he witnessed as all the emotions that had fled him for the past two weeks spewed up from the great divide, he watched as the demons of loss devoured him.

He knew those feelings all to well, the constant raging from calm to hell, with your mind stuck somewhere in in the middle.

 

Kirishima stood and watched, the ability to breathe had escaped him as he saw two weeks worth of hell plague Akihito’s face, he saw Feilong stare at Akihito, his brows pursed in tender concern, his eyes assessing with gentle care, not a shred of pity, just pure understanding. This was the right choice.

They were almost a reflection of each other, a mirror, except one was looking at past and one was looking at the future.

 

The small frame stood up from the couch, still unsure of the tidal waves ripping through him.

“Feilong, I…” he covered his face with his hands as it all finally hit home, Asami was gone, everything was gone, the past two years were meaningless.

He took a few steps to come out from the side of the couch, hands scrunched in his hair, holding on as if squeezing tighter meant he could come to grips with it, but it was a futile effort.

The sound of Akihito’s panicked breathing whispered throughout the apartment, louder and more ragged with each passing moment, he was probably the only person actually breathing in the apartment right now, everyone else just waited, this had to happen, this part was crucial.

And it _was_ happening, before their very eyes, the breaking, finally after two long weeks.

Those thin arms flopped down hopelessly as Akihito looked back at them, Kirishima could see the tide welling up in his eyes as the storm finally hit inside that mind, those eyes brimming with despair, the emotions pumped up from a well that only Feilong knew how to operate.

“Feilong…. Why?” Akihito choked as he sank to his knees with a thud, hands ripping at his hair once more, to stop them from trembling.

The first gut-wrenching sob polluted the silence, the first salty tears hidden by the palms trying to push them back in, trying to stop the dam from opening, and in that instant Feilong was there next to him.

 

Feilong sank to his knees on the floor of Kirishima’s apartment and held Akihito tightly, his knees on either side of the body between them, he gripped the blonde firmly against his chest as he finally broke in his embrace.

The terror-stricken body wrapped in his arms was heaving now, racked with uncontrollable sobs, tearing through the past, ripping it all to shreds, rendering it all useless, something that couldn’t even be recycled.

The Baishe leader shut his eyes and pulled Akihito’s head against his chest, resting his chin on the shaking blonde’s head.

His own black hair fell to fan in front of Akihito’s face, a silken curtain to hide the worst of the display to come.

“Take me away Feilong.” Akihito whispered into his chest, repeating the harsh words that Asami had said.

“Shhh, Akihito. We’ll go back to Hong Kong, Tao will be happy to see you. I’ll take you to see the Great Wall, and the Forbidden City, you can see the Terracotta Soldiers, I’ll have them shut to the public and you can take as many photo’s as you want from wherever you want without a care in the world. We need to get some meat on your bones first.”

“I wont be able to if Tao steals my food like last time.” Akihito said.

Ah, he was still there, underneath it all. The corners of Feilong’s eyes lifted in a smile.

“Fufu, there won’t be any of that this time around Akihito, I promise.”

The moment passed, and Akihito went back to hitching breaths as his tears finally showed themselves.

 

 

Kirishima decided he much preferred the silence then what he was hearing right now, the frantic gasping between unintelligible cries, asking why, asking what had he done, asking all the questions that Kirishima and Suoh had no answers to, all the questions that they wanted to answer for him. That much he deserved.

He was only glad he couldn’t see Akihito’s face, Feilong’s raven black hair had swept in front of it, the only shade of black that Akihito needed right now.

It didn’t mean Kirishima couldn’t see the tears falling on the floor though, it didn’t mean he couldn’t see Akihito fall to pieces right before his very eyes, the brittle vessel finally hit the floor of reality and shattered.

He let out the breath he’d be holding for so long, anything was better than this, he found himself wanting to shout, why the fuck should this be necessary when it shouldn’t be happening in the first place.

Next to him, he heard Suoh _tsk_ under his breath, his ever stoic friend was thinking the same thing.

What he wasn’t expecting though, was for Kazumi to storm out of the apartment and slam the door behind him as he went.

He followed, relieved to have an excuse to get out, to be anywhere but in the living room of his own house right now.

Kazumi was pacing in the corridor of the complex, his teeth were gritted tight as he patrolled back and forth, Kirishima opened his mouth to say something, but Suoh spoke first.

“I can’t take this shit, Kei!”

“Kazumi?” the secretary questioned.

“How is this protecting Akihito? For fucks sake, I would rather dive into a pit of mafia bastards or chase the brat around Tokyo for an eternity then this! God, I want to shoot someone right now, no, I want to beat the shit out of someone. We can protect him from enemies, watch over him, but we can’t protect him from the worst fucking thing of all! We can’t protect him from Asami!” He slammed his palms against the closest wall and hung his head between his arms.

“Wait, what did you just say then?” Kirishima asked, something in Suoh’s rampaging speech stuck with him, the target invisible, but the words had still hit the right spot.

“What? That I wanted to shoot someone?” still looking at the floor between his arms.

“No, that last part.” Kirishima urged.

“Hmmm, we can’t protect him from Asami?..... Oh. Kei, you don’t think?” Suoh was staring at him now, comprehension lining his features.

“Yes, I do think.” Kirishima had the answer to his question now.

“For all his smarts, Asami is still an idiot.” Kirishima straightened, standing up from the wall.

“So, what now then?” He asked.

Kirishima had the question answered that had been eating away at him for two weeks, only to be replaced by another.

Suddenly, he didn’t know what choice to make.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Now is about the time where I question my ability to string a sentence together, coupled with this style of writing it can be a pain in the ass.

But here it is regardless.

Well, now is about the time I accept that I practice sadism with words, yep, that’s right, cliffhanger, one that you weren’t expecting I hope.

Credit to Rumi for the quote at the end.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Feilong made the decision for them, he said there was no reason for Akihito to stay in Tokyo the way things were now, he needed to be elsewhere, away from things that reminded him of Asami, of everything he’d lost.

The constant reminders would only continue to open up the wounds that needed to heal.

Kirishima felt like being sick at this point, everyone knew that Akihito didn’t care that he’d lost everything, his life, and his name.

Everyone knew that he would have thrown it all away for Asami in an instant, everyone knew except Asami, the only person that needed to know.

Suoh had protested, but inside he knew Feilong was right, it was pretty hard to go against the Baishe leader when he was dead set on something. He wasn’t the boss for no reason.

He said if they wanted Akihito back, they’d have to find a way to make Asami wake up from his delusion, and that he’d need to fix everything he’d done to Akihito.

How on earth they were going to make Asami admit that he’d made a mistake, they had no idea.

It was like pointing a blind man in the direction he needed to go, futile, because he couldn’t see.

Like telling a deaf man all the words he needed to hear, pointless, because he couldn’t listen.

It wouldn’t be their fault that Akihito was gone by the time he finally realized his colossal fuck up.

 

Feilong took Akihito to Hong Kong the next day.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It turns out getting Asami Ryuichi to admit he’d made a mistake was near impossible, tension in the office was high, the air getting thicker and thicker as weeks went by.

The first confrontation that Suoh and Kirishima had tried ended up being met with silence, they tried reason first, and were met with the wall of Asami’s fortress.

Like before, any issues that concerned Takaba Akihito were ignored, and no one wanted to flare up and push the issue like Jun had, for fear of the obvious. For fear of another red eruption.

 

Asami became unforgiving, bitter and impenetrable, and he showed no signs of seeing reason any time soon, no matter how hard the pair tried.

Each night made it harder to reach him, each night Asami drunk himself further into his colorless castle, every bottle further away from reason, attempting to fill up the hollowness and drown reason at the bottom.

All Asami could hear is silence, all he could see was the dark, stuck in his own cerebral black hole.

 

Kirishima had never seen his boss look so weary, so burdened, he’d lost his businessman front and wore the face of an ice king.

His eyes were oblivion, no matter how hard you looked into them, you would never see anything, his visage cold, frozen in place, revealing the face of the true man he was now, merciless and black.

 

Kirishima and Suoh wondered what the hell it would take, short of hammering it into his head, it was clear that Asami couldn’t live with his decision now that he’d made it, but crime lords were stubborn, and the tension only kept on building, the air becoming stagnant without change. Every second soaked with unspoken conflict, every hour a silent war of wills.

He wondered who would snap first the next time the subject was broached.

It was impossible to tell at this point, but in the end something had to give, their patience, or Asami’s wall.

 

The secretary wondered how his boss would take the fact that he needed to socialize, tonight, he had attended hardly anything since _it_ happened, choosing to let his silent penthouse keep him company instead.

This event couldn’t be missed, but Asami’s demeanor was enough to incite unease, and the thought of him at a charity ball right now was akin to sending a muzzled wolf into the flock. He was still terrifying, even if he couldn’t bite, the threat was still there.

“Asami sama. The charity ball is tonight, the one you agreed to sponsor 2 months ago.” Before Akihito left, he wanted to say.

His boss showed no reaction, he’d heard the unspoken words, and let them land hard against his fortified ears, ignored.

“Who am I going with?” His boss drawled, there was no ounce of care in that tone, there never was anymore.

Kirishima straightened, Asami still hadn’t neglected his duties as boss, yet. That was about the only good thing.

“The actress Azumi, Asami sama.” The one that Akihito hates, he let silence speak those last parts.

He watched the minor twitch as his silent words hit, as he was hit with a reminder of his mistake. That was it, the only reaction, but he knew it would be a catalyst for things to come.

“Very well.” His boss deadpanned, he could tell his boss knew it too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Suoh had never been this frustrated in his life, anything Akihito could have done while he was causing trouble was easier to deal with then this.

In fact, he’d give anything for the brat to be leading them on a merry chase throughout Tokyo right now.

He knew Feilong and Kirishima were right, but it didn’t make his ire go away, reason didn’t quell his unease as he said goodbye to Akihito at the airport weeks ago.

It didn’t lessen his frustration at his bosses fucked up reasoning.

 

The urge to confront Asami wasn’t reduced when he went to work the next day, or the days after.

Only his self control and Kirishima’s pestering did that.

Suoh was a patient man, but this was proving too much.

 

He held on to the last of his patience as he gripped the steering wheel of the limo, he was picking up Asami from the charity ball to take him home, which wasn’t unusual at all, something like that would never normally stretch his rope so thin.

This time however, he knew his boss had once again clouded his mind with alcohol, like he did every night, hoping to chase his cowardice away.

This time, the actress Azumi got in the limo with him, and sat too close to Asami for Suoh’s liking, too close to even more betrayal.

Too close to a betrayal that Suoh would play no part in, not now, not ever.

 

He watched as the actress put all her charm into seducing his boss, he watched as she leant over to slide her small hand up his thigh, coming in close to his face, their lips inches apart.

 

It wasn’t like Suoh to interrupt, but this time he gladly would.

“Where are we dropping Miss Azumi, Asami sama?” he deadpanned.

He saw the alcohol in his bosses system push the last of his reason away, snapping the last patience Suoh had.

“She’s coming back to the penthouse, Suoh.” Asami said before he traveled the small distance to place an unfeeling, detached kiss on the actress’s lips.

 

It was too much, Suoh had waited like Feilong and Kirishima said, had resisted the urge to tell his friend to wake the fuck up and make it right, and all he had done was watch as he went further and further down the rabbit hole, dragging Akihito’s name in the dirt behind him.

 

There was only one person Suoh would ever take back to the penthouse, the only other person apart from Asami.

Takaba Akihito, the only person that needed to be taken back to the penthouse.

 

“I’m done, Asami.”

His boss stopped his pathetic excuse of distracting himself, and looked at Suoh, his eyes narrowed.

“What did you just say?” he responded with venom. Any other time Suoh would have flinched at the tone, not this time, he was immune now.

“I said I am fucking done!” Suoh snapped as he took the keys from the ignition and got out of the limo.

Asami got out to follow, with a snarl painted across his face.

“You dare disobey me, Suoh?”

“Yes I dare disobey, I’m not going to sit back and watch you make even more fucking mistakes, I’ll not sit by and watch you betray Takaba even further. Take yourself back to your damn penthouse.”

He threw the car keys at his boss’s chest, but they were ignored and clattered on the concrete at their feet.

“Do not speak his name in front of me Suoh! You think I betrayed him? You know nothing!”

He was in angry boss mode, the one where he killed without a second thought, Suoh didn’t care.

“Oh I know Ryuichi, you thought you were doing the right thing? Is that it? Thought that casting him aside without even bothering to clear his damn name is right? What a joke, you dragged him through your fucking mud and now he’s ruined!”

“It was the only choice I had, Kazumi!” Asami growled the words, his eyes promised murder, angry that someone had confronted his problem head on.

All of Suoh’s frustration flooded out in his tirade, urging his mouth to keep speaking.

“That’s a lie and you know it! Just admit you made a mistake for once in your life! You’re a mess, Ryuichi, look at you. I’m not going to stand around and watch while you fuck it up even more. You had better make the right choice this time Ryuichi,” he gestured to the limo, indicating what choice he meant, “because if it’s wrong I wont be at work tomorrow.”

Suoh spat the last words, in a red rage of his own as he looked at the shadow of a person he called friend, before turning around and walking away.

He didn’t realize the effect his words would have as he strode away, as each word blasted a hole in Asami’s wall, letting the alcohol drain away, leaving Asami to find reason as he walked into the night.

 

Asami stood on the pavement, motionless as time passed around him, he didn’t hear Azumi nag him, get frustrated and leave, all he heard was silence as he watched the back of his friend walk away, as he watched the back of his friend get smaller.

As he watched the shadows of his organization dissipate into nothing.

Was that really what would happen now he sent Akihito away? 

Would everything crumble? All that he’d built?

Would he lose everything that was of any importance? Suoh, Kirishima, he’d already shot Jun.

Yes. He would.

He barked a laugh as he sat on the curb, and threw his head back to look at the stars through the smog.

As he looked for reason and found it though the haze of alcohol.

The light of the stars, even through the polluted air of Tokyo, was so bright. The light was so bright.

Light, it was the thing that cast shadows, the thing that brought darkness together and held it in place.

Light was the reason shadows existed. To the shadow, light was everything.

He once remembered telling Akihito something, _what I give to you is your everything._

All these years, Asami had failed to realize it was the other way around.

 

How was he to fix it now though? There was nothing he could do that would warrant Akihito even looking at him, he’d betrayed Akihito, smudged his name in ink across the newspapers and hadn’t done anything about it.

He had wrecked everything Akihito was, and the only thing that would make it right, was for it to be undone, reversed, and the only way to reverse that, was for Asami to wreck himself.

For the first time in weeks, he felt clearheaded as he picked up the phone and dialed a number that could do everything he wanted.

It rung twice before it answered.

_“Ryuichi?”_ was all the person said.

“……I need a favor, Kuroda.”

He explained to Kuroda, and as he explained what he wanted to do, he finally felt the burden lift from his shoulders once more. Weightless. He’d made the right choice, this time for sure.

The bright light of the stars through the Tokyo smog told him so.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Asami woke, today he felt better then he had any other day since he’d sent his light away, an eternity ago.

He didn’t have any dreams last night. He hadn’t had any dreams since he’d made the decision to see this through one week ago, since he’d started sleeping in his own bed again.

The black fog had cleared from his conscience, and the great mind of Asami Ryuichi had begun planning Akihito’s redemption the only way he knew was possible.

Today was the day where he’d made the right choice.

 

He dressed for work, he put on the finest suit he owned, this was an extremely special occasion, something he had never done before. Something he would only do for one person, for Takaba Akihito.

 

He left his guns in the safe, he didn’t need them today. He wouldn’t need them for a while. Not where he was going.

 

For the first day in over a month, he sat and ate breakfast at the table he used to share with Akihito. It was quiet without him, but he didn’t mind today, it was nice to sit and share the memories with the silence.

 

Kirishima and a much more reluctant Suoh entered the penthouse, dragging their feet like they had done every other day the past month, only to find Asami waiting for them, dressed impeccably and eating breakfast at the dining room table.

He looked…. Gold. That was it. Asami Ryuichi was back, and he shone brilliantly as he sat at the dining table and ate in silence. God, he was so bright.

Was he this bright before it all happened? No, back then there had been something obscuring the view, and Kirishima had a feeling he knew what it was.

It was denial, dirtying the lustrous shine underneath, and now his boss shone with acceptance, bringing out gold’s true potential.

 

Asami’s men sat and waited for orders from their boss, the silence didn’t stretch out like it used too, unspoken words didn’t weigh down the air of the penthouse, the winds of revelation had finally blown the storm away.

 

The two men startled at a knock on the penthouse door, and made to draw their weapons, no one was allowed onto this floor without their permission.

 

“Stand down, Kei, Kazumi.” Asami announced as he stood from the table, his movements were sure, his words held resignation.

He walked over to his men, and gave them each a crisp white envelope. White. Kirishima felt like he was seeing that color for the very first time.

“Your orders. Read them after I am gone. Thank you, Kazumi, Kei. For everything.”

 

He left his two subordinates standing dumbstruck, wondering where on earth he would be going after he had just found himself in the dark, after what they’d been waiting for finally happened.

Before Kirishima could act, and piece it all together, his friend opened the door.

Officer Yamazaki, Kuroda Shinji and a handful of officers stood in the doorway.

Yamazaki stepped forward, and drew his handcuffs from the belt on his waist.

With the next words, Kirishima understood, his boss was righting the colossal wrong he’d done, he was trying to fix it, and with this he would. He would fix the name of Takaba Akihito.

 

“Asami Ryuichi. You’re under arrest.”

 

He saw his boss smile, relief washed over his features, and he held his wrists out willingly.

“Indeed I am.”

 

 

_You are not just a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in one single drop._

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I took a while off this fic because I was unsure about the way I wrote it.  
> I’m still not sure, but have decided to finish it nonetheless.  
> The update isn’t huge, but it’s still an update, the story will be finished soon. Will be going back to my older stuff also, after this.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirishima and Suoh stood frozen as Asami led everyone out of the penthouse, you would never think he’d just been arrested, his head was held with pride, his shoulders perfect and straight, his golden aura blinding the people that had come to arrest him.

He had his wrists cuffed in front of him, but as he strode forward, out of that door in front of everyone else, he still looked like the King, and they still looked like his subjects.

Kuroda Shinji gave them both a fleeting glance, and he let a sigh out as he followed his Asami down the hall, he’d helped set this up, it doesn’t mean he was happy about putting his friend in jail.

 

He closed the penthouse door behind him, and with his boss’s exit, Kirishima couldn’t help but notice how all the color faded, turning the world inside the penthouse into a dull monochrome.

 

“What. the. fuck?” Suoh deadpanned.

 

Kirishima then remembered the envelope in his hand, and he knew it would have the answers Suoh was wanting.

 

As Kirishima flipped open the envelope and brought out the strong white paper that his orders were written on, he adjusted his glasses, and read the black words on the white page.

_“Look at today’s newspaper._

_Call Feilong, he knows everything._

_Bring Him to me.”_

That was all it said, it wasn’t much, but surprisingly it was enough. He looked over to Suoh’s paper, his stoic friend stunned with the single line written in oblivion colored ink.

_“Thanks, Kazumi. Look after him until I get back.”_

They both had their orders, so unlike the order Asami had given him weeks ago after the front page that started this entire disaster.

These orders he would follow willingly.

 

First though, the newspaper that was still tucked under his arm, forgotten in this morning’s events.

“Hurry up with the fucking paper already, Kirishima.” Suoh had looked over at Kirishima’s note in turn, and had yanked the rolled up headlines out from its purchase under his arm.

 

The pair of subordinates rolled out the paper on the dining table, and surveyed what their boss had been up to this past week.

The headline on the front page read:

_“Takaba Akihito works with D.A Kuroda to uncover Sion CEO felonies, charges pending.”_

The first line of the article said:

_“Takaba plotted with D.A Kuroda to stage the relationship to sequester confidential information about underground business deals.”_

 

The photo that accompanied the article was a picture of Takaba Akihito, with a strap slung over his shoulder, his face pointed in the direction of the light.

Kirishima knew Asami must have picked this photo, it was the first photo Kirishima gave to Asami all those years ago, the first time Asami ever saw Takaba Akihito.

Young, innocent and carefree, not yet tainted by Asami’s world, this was the photo that Asami wanted everyone to see.

 

“….he really did it.” Suoh said, in a whisper.

 

He did, Asami did to himself what journalists have been trying to do for years, the King was untouchable, everyone knew about the rumors, but nothing was ever published, to get a scoop on Asami Ryuichi would be the pinnacle of a photographers career.

Asami had given Akihito exactly that.

 

 

“Hey, Kei, we didn’t tell Asami where we sent Akihito, did we?” Suoh questioned as he looked at Kirishima’s orders once more.

“I didn’t, no.” Kirishima replied, pensive.

“Fucking hell, even with all the booze he can still read us like an open book.”

“That’s why he’s the boss.” Came his reply as he pulled his phone out, to call Feilong.

 

*****

 

 

It was early morning, and Feilong found himself shifting in his seat, speculative for the call that he didn’t know was coming or not. When Asami called him one week ago, he could hardly believe what the man was saying to him, what he was asking of Feilong.

 

Feilong, who would sooner shoot Asami for what he’d done to Akihito, Feilong, who was now defending Asami’s routes and underground business while the man got himself arrested and sat in a cell. For Akihito.

 

It was so ironic how the tides had turned, Asami once held everything of Feilong’s in the palm of his hand, and he had clenched that fist without mercy and destroyed it nearly beyond repair.

Now here the Baishe leader was, he had the only thing that Asami ever wanted and more, but instead of crushing it, he found himself agreeing to watch over it, cradle it with both hands, rather than closing his fist like Asami had done all those years ago.

 

Feilong didn’t think he could bring himself to do it anyway, even if he wanted to. That was the difference between him and Asami.

Asami was darker shade of black than him.

 

 

He heard the fax come through, the one he’d been waiting for from Asami’s friend, Kuroda, not really believing his ears as he walked over to the machine in his office and snatched the page from the feed as soon as the machines teeth let it go, he held his breath as he flipped the page over to look, exhale, and there it was.

 

The mornings front page headline for Tokyo, with Akihito’s face on it.

Even though the photo was black and white, it still had more color than what Akihito did now.

Oh, his skin had returned to the tint of someone living, his cheeks had filled out, and he was beginning to show expression again, but despite all that, he was still a few shades short of the true color he’d once been.

Feilong truly had no idea how Akihito would react when he showed him the fax he had in his hand.

Or what would happen when he told Akihito they would be going back to Tokyo, as Feilong promised Asami they would if the Japanese man really went through with it.

All Feilong needed now was the phone call that was due any second.

 

He waited a few more minutes, or eternity, they were one and the same right now, until the phone in his pocket finally came to life and said there was an incoming call, from Kirishima Kei.

“Kirishima, what took you so long?” he said, his patience was wearing thin by the time the phone actually rung.

 _“Feilong, so you do know what’s going on?”_ Kirishima sounded relieved, as he should, because for all the secretary knew, his boss had just thrown him in the deep end without a way out.

Asami and Feilong had discussed it, Kirishima could only hold the fort so long, and that’s where Feilong stepped in.

Though Kirishima didn’t even know that yet. That was something they had to discuss in person, away from prying eyes and ears.

 

 

They discussed briefly what was going on, and at the end of the call made arrangements for Feilong to finally bring Akihito back to Tokyo, back to Asami.

 

With that done, Feilong left his office, and walked the halls of his home towards the sitting room, where Akihito and Tao were having breakfast with Yoh.

Akihito and Tao, Feilong had to smile, where one was, so was the other.

Tao had stuck to Akihito’s side like glue the moment they arrived in Hong Kong, even going so far as to sleep in the same room.

Young Tao was strangely receptive to it all, he never once mentioned ‘that man Asami’ that came to pick Akihito up last time, not once had he ever asked what was wrong.

 

Instead, he took it upon himself to keep Akihito company at all times, he told Feilong it was because he thought Akihito looked lonely, he made Akihito eat, he made Akihito sleep, and over the past week, he’d even managed to make Akihito smile, if only for a fleeting moment.

 

He was a child after all, it was hard to be immune to his efforts, or his demands in some cases, lord knew that over the years Feilong’s immunity to them had been completely wiped out.

 

Akihito’s time in Hong Kong would be cut much shorter than Feilong would have liked it, but in the end it wasn’t what about what Feilong wanted, it wasn’t even about what Akihito wanted, it was about what he needed.

Akihito needed to talk to Asami at least once, whether it be the last time or not, and it seemed Asami knew too, from the orders he’d given Kirishima.

What would happen at that meeting was anyone’s guess.

It was all up to Akihito to decide how it would go, as it should have been from the very start. It had taken until now for Asami to realize that. Stupid man.

 

“Akihito.” He said as he walked into the room, finding the blonde and Tao at the dining table.

The Baishe leader didn’t know which way to go about this, he didn’t even know if was a good idea, the page in his hand could undo it all, it could thicken the filter over Akihito’s vibrancy, or finally reveal the full spectrum.

 

Akihito looked up at his ambiguous tone, and Feilong watched him pale as he took in the bit of paper in Feilong’s hand.

Of course, paper wouldn’t mean anything good to Akihito, especially ones that had photocopied news headlines on them.

He gave the faxed article to Akihito face down, and gave Akihito the choice of when he finally chose to look.

The blonde stared at the white page on the other side for a few breaths, before looking at Feilong in question.

“Just look, Akihito, you’ll see.” The Chinese man urged.

 

“….Alright.” with that, Akihito turned the page over in one quick motion, getting it over and done with as if ripping the band aid off.

 

Yoh and Feilong both watched as Akihito surveyed Tokyo’s news in front of him, they watched his eyes widen, and then narrow as they read the small print.

They watched with each word read, his eyes become animated once more, no longer static.

They watched as each shade of emotion passed over his features, until the full picture of Takaba Akihito was revealed in all its hues.

Akihito bandied the page about in a clenched fist.

“What the fuck does he think he’s doing? If I’m gonna get a scoop, I’m gonna get it myself, that bastard. ”

 

Tao was clapping his hands in delight, happy to see Akihito so animated, Yoh stood open mouthed, and Feilong couldn’t help but laugh.

Takaba Akihito was back in all his brilliance, and Asami was going to find himself in for a shock when he was face to face with Akihito once more.

 

He told Akihito their arrangements with Kirishima to fly back today, and Feilong found himself laughing once more as Akihito left to go pack his things, muttering colorful expletives and profanities about a certain Japanese crime lord as he went.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flips rock* look what I found, Bound to Happen!

 

 

He lay in a holding cell, sprawled across the thin futon covered in who knows what from criminals who put shame to the label, in one of his best suits. A black suit, it made his gold eyes stand out against the midnight fabric that armored him.

 

Black and gold.  The definition of Asami Ryuichi.

 

The secrecy of that color black, it cloaked him, the supremacy of that color gold, it empowered him. And for those two colors; he was King.

 

A colorblind King, who lay flat on his back, his arms crossed behind his head for menial comfort, staring at the ceiling and marveling at the color he could now appreciate; even though the cell was dank.

 

He’d never considered himself blinded in anyway, he saw everything down to the finest detail, it would be fatal if he missed even one miniscule spec of dust that anyone else would deem insignificant.

 

He knew the color red, the color that drained from people as their life pooled on the floor about their corpse.

He knew the color black, the black of his suit, the black of his gun, the black of the abyss that was him.

He knew the color white, pure, untainted; free of black.

He knew the color grey, grey was once white, but it had been infected, once that happened, grey could never go back to being white.

Every other color though, _was_ that miniscule spec of dust to him before. Not because he deemed them so, purely because there had been a lack thereof that he wasn’t able to see.

 

He could see it now as the white of the holding cell walls oppressed on the invading black suit in the room.

 

He could see the color hazel, and the multitude of colors that made it, browns of Italian leather and Cuban cigars, greens of the pacific ocean and dollar bills, and he could see the eyes that belonged to that initial color; hazel.

 

Takaba Akihito, who’d opened his eyes to every other color, and now he could see the full spectrum.

 

He would see him, soon.  By now, Kirishima would have made the call, and Feilong would have shown Akihito the article he’d arranged to have published in the paper.

 

He’d done something special to organize that particular part of his plan:

 

The look on Takaba senior’s face would have had Asami laughing any other day, standing open mouthed at the doorway to the Takaba house as he looked at Asami, who was alone with a discrepant brown envelope in his hand.

 

A man could hate on Asami Ryuichi all he wanted in the press, but when it came to being faced with the real life version, 99% of any media type personnel, shied away in fear, like the timid horse that could feel the dragon coming.

That 1% that was different was the breed like Akihito; and his father.

 

Once that shock wore off, hostility boiled to the surface, and Takaba snarled as he tried to slam the door shut on the King’s face, the man who could go anywhere, wasn’t welcomed beyond the threshold of this abode.

 

This white dwelling with not a speck of black to be found.

 

He’d been expecting that much and more, so Asami’s lightning hand shot out before the door could slam its last word in his face.

 

The offending door was jerked back, and Takaba senior scowled at him with angry eyes that looked like they hadn’t been sleeping much of late. Asami knew that glare well.

 

There was nothing he could ever possibly say in this situation to explain himself, so instead he handed the man the envelope and let its contents speak for him.

 

“Is this some attempt to pay me off for ruining my son?” the envelope was taken, but the man no made to move to look at it.

 

“Look.” Was all Asami said. Everything would become clear once Takaba saw the contents of that envelope.

 

Frowning, Takaba did as Asami suggested, and took out the sheaf of papers and photographs, and his face promptly went back to the one of disbelief as he went over each sheet of information.

 

Asami waited, waited until Takaba had been through each page, the article written specifically by Kuroda that would have nothing incriminating in it, but would be enough to paint Asami as the villain and Akihito as the hero. That was the truth at least.

 

The photo of his son that Asami picked out especially for the front page, along every single snapshot of Akihito and him caught together, with the dates on, that Asami had ever halted from print before the one that slipped through his fingers.

 

“Can you do it?” the crime boss questioned.

 

No matter if he couldn’t, he could get in on the front page any other way, but it had more meaning this way. Asami just didn’t have a message to send to the public, he had one to send to Akihito’s friends and family as well.

Takaba senior knew the truth about Asami, there was no getting around it, the only option left with this man was to tell him Akihito’s true worth.

“What is my son to you?” Takaba eventually asked the question Asami knew would come, the question was empty though, because Akihito’s father already knew the answer.

 

Asami decided to humor him anyway, he stared impassively down at the man who’d raised Akihito, turned him into the person that brought all Asami’s walls down and taken away his monochrome lenses; he deserved an answer.

 

The hiss of flint on steel whispered as he lit a much-needed cigarette, before turning and simply saying; “Everything.”

 

He walked back down the path away from the house Akihito grew up in; and knew that he’d gotten the message across, because just like Akihito, he could read Takaba senior like an open book.

 

That was how four days later; Asami found himself in this cell, with his plan panning out seamlessly as a plan devised by him only could.

 

However, from here on out it was out of his hands.

 

He allowed himself a smile; Takaba Akihito would get the say in what happened next, and like everything Takaba, it _never_ went according to plan.

 

After what felt like hours of staring at the four corners of the white walled cell, hearing people walk by, and the mummers of the officers who directed stares of disbelief in the direction of his lockup, he heard the colorful ruckus of what could only be one person.

 

He was here, and not too happy by the sounds of it, he chuckled despite himself, he missed that noise of life.

The fulfilling presence it gave his condo, his office, or anywhere else Takaba Akihito walked. His fire was infectious.

 

There was a loud buzz, indicating that the door to his confinement had been unlocked, urging Asami to stand as the door was opened.

 

Officer Yamazaki was standing in the door, looking torn between shutting it again, or stepping aside, but his decision was made for him as a blonde haired anomaly pushed the man aside and stepped into the cell.

 

Asami didn’t see anything else, didn’t register Feilong and Yoh appear in the door way, nor the way Yamazaki looked caught between one horrifying beast and another, because there he was.

 

Akihito snarled, shoving the copy of the front page at Asami’s chest. “What the fuck is this?!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue is so hard, you guys….

There was only one way for Asami to describe what he felt as he stood staring at Akihito at that moment.

 

When he sent Akihito away after that photo was published, he’d thrown everything up in the air. His entire life, his home, his business and his own well being.

 

And now, after over a month of floating around aimlessly; gravity had just walked back in.

 

What goes up; must come down.

 

Akihito was capable of destroying it all now, capable of exerting the influence he had over Asami and using it to bring him to his knees further with his pulling power.

Asami had given it to him willingly with his newspaper stunt. He still couldn’t help but feel unease as he looked at the solemnity in Akihito’s eyes.

 

How much force would he use to bring it all down? Would the fall be feather light? Or rock heavy? Only Akihito could decide.

 

“Well?” Akihito prompted.

 

Asami didn’t even know where to begin. He knew things would have to be different this time around. No longer could he do what he wanted when it came to Akihito. Even now, all he wanted to do was touch him. Trace the dark lines under his eyes, run his fingers through the hair that was long over due for a cut.

 

But he could see Akihito poised for it, for Asami’s usual problem solving using physical means. He could see the fight Akihito had in him, more than ever before. This time he was truly angry with Asami, not the old frustration or confusion with the riddled words and half answered questions, but seething with justified rage at broken promises, at being abandoned and then mocked with false glory.

 

“Leave us.” Asami ordered to everyone else, Officer Yamazaki bristled at being given the order in his own station. Yoh stepped back with a slight bow.

 

Feilong on the other hand, wasn’t looking at Asami at all, but at Akihito instead.

“Akihito? Is that okay with you?” he asked, the concern and protectiveness in his voice evident to Asami’s ears.

“It’s fine.” Came the blank answer, Akihito’s hazel eyes were still locked on Asami’s.

“I’ll be right outside. Call if you need me.” Feilong’s eyes shifted between them, eyeing Asami with disdain before shifting back to Akihito with compassion. “I still can’t believe I agreed to help you with this, Asami.”

 

“I know. Thank you, Feilong.” And Asami dipped his head in appreciation, because he was truly grateful. None of it would have been possible with out Feilong.

Two pairs of eyes widened in surprise at that; Feilong’s and Akihito’s, before Feilong just sighed in acceptance and left.

 

And then, they were alone.

 

****

 

Call it instinct, call it habit, but being alone with Asami in a sterile colored room with four corners didn’t sit well with Akihito.

 

There were some things you just couldn’t run from though. More than he wanted to run, far away and never see Asami again, more than the conflicting emotion of wanting to throw himself in those arms, more than he wanted to cry, more than he wanted to yell and scream his anger, more than anything; he wanted answers.

 

The darkness of Asami’s suit threatened to draw him in, the color black a sickening beacon to him. The color had the strangest way of sucking him in after years of chasing crime, but Asami was a special shade of black. He could hide in those folds of oblivion colored fabric and never show his face to Tokyo again. But Asami hadn’t even offered him that much.

 

Instead, he’d been pushed off the cliff and into the void, where he would fall forever until he had the closure he needed.

So he stood there, every tired muscle in his body rigid and waiting.

 

It was quiet in Asami’s cell, there was no annoying clock ticking obnoxiously, no phones vibrating brashly, no camera shutters, no hounding reporters; just Asami and his own heartbeat.

 

Asami looked like Asami. In the dank cell his three-piece suit shone with splendor, his shoulders stood straight, his hair slicked back, perfect. He looked like he hadn’t missed an ounce of sleep. Well, his stature said that. His eyes though, were fixed on Akihito in uncertainty; his brows pursed in what Akihito would call anguish. The gold was duller than he remembered.

 

Never before had he seen Asami make that face. He also hadn’t seen the man struggle for words, but the open and close of Asami’s mouth said that the man was speechless.

“I’ll go first then shall I?” Akihito all but jeered. “Care to tell me why this fake article has my name on it? Is this your way of saying I’m sorry or what? Because outing me and then making me a fraud is not how you fucking go about it!” he’d exploded into a yell, all his anger, over a months worth; boiling to a head at being faced with the reason for his life and his name being utterly destroyed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I shouldn’t even be here, I should be as far from you as I can get. But you went too far this time, Asami. Not only did you throw me out with the trash, but then you had the audacity to set this story up! For what?! For fucking what?!” he felt the tears well up in his eyes, and didn’t care not to let them fall. He’d never been this angry and distraught before, this confused in his entire life. Asami looked like he was feeling exactly the same. Akihito didn’t want to see it, because it only added to his mixed emotions.

 

“Akihito-”

 

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” The blonde accentuated before Asami’s hand could find purchase on his shoulder. So Asami pulled away with a sigh, and sat down on his tiny cell bed, his elbows rested on his knees in thought.

“It’s not a fake story, Akihito.” He began, “You, out of all the crime chasers in Tokyo would have the most evidence against me and you know it. You’ve just never chosen to use any of it.”

“That isn’t an answer to my question. Asami.” Akihito deadpanned, proud of his own steadfastness.

A pause. “You…. Wouldn’t have come back for anything else. Nothing else was enough.” Asami breathed.

“Enough for what?”

The pause was longer this time, he could see Asami fighting with himself, until he closed his eyes and spoke with none of his usual trained vocabulary. “I destroy you. You destroy me.”

 

The words seemed to echo off the white walled cell, sucking any and all fight Akihito had in him, pulling the air from his lungs and the strength from his legs. He fell into the only proper chair in the room with a thud.

 

“Take your pick, Akihito. Charges have yet to be laid, take your pick from what you’ve got on me. I’ll serve the sentence. You’ll be redeemed, and you can come home. Just…. Be there when I get out.”

 

Silence followed. Akihito racked his brain, his mind swimming. Asami let him think.

 

“I could put you away for months, years even.” Akihito finally cut the stillness, he pulled his eyes up from the floor to see Asami wince at the suggestion.

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t.”

“That’s what I should do though. For what you did.” Akihito countered, having calmed somewhat, staring at the grey concrete floor helped.

“I know.” There was a drawn out sigh, tired and pained as they got to the heart of it.

“Why, Asami?” Akihito asked, tears welling up anew as he remembered that morning, remembered having is world pulled out from under his feet. The floor became blurry as the moisture in his eyes took over and gravity pulled his tears to patter on the floor. He fucking hated crying in front of Asami, so he kept his blurred glare trained on the concrete.

“I… thought it was the only choice I had. Any other photo could have been covered up, but there were no lies in that picture, Akihito. That was us. The same thing would have happened to you if you’d stayed, you would have been miserable, so I sent you away. But.” Asami cut himself short, from the edge of Akihito’s vision, he could see fists clenched in a struggle.

“But I didn’t think it would that hard to tell the papers it was all a lie to cover it up either. I couldn’t bring myself deny it. So I left it. I made the wrong choice, Akihito.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous!” Akihito snapped through his now angry tears, the words brought Asami’s gaze up, surprised at the crack in Akihito’s tone. “Did you ever once consider that it wasn’t your choice to make?”

 

Gold eyes widened in revelation, before a mirthless laugh emerged from Asami’s throat, scathing and hollow. Akihito got the feeling he wasn’t the one being laughed at.

 

“It was your choice all along, wasn’t it?” Asami seemed to ask himself.

 

“Yeah, but it’s too late for that now.” Akihito answered nonetheless as he sat back down, “So what? You decided you missed having a bed warmer. Is that it? Anyone else could have done that job.” he really couldn’t be bothered anymore. He felt sick. Asami was offering himself up on a silver platter, a criminal photographers wet dream, and Akihito didn’t want any of it. He never did.   
  
“Akihito….” Asami paused, and with a resolved sigh continued once more. “I made a mistake. I made many. I lost it, everything went into chaos because I couldn’t _function._ I drank. I shot people I shouldn’t have. I-I need you. So I’ll sit in here, for as long as you want me to. The choice this time is yours.”

 

With his heart running rampant thunder in his chest, Akihito met Asami’s gaze. “Asami, I shouldn’t have to even make a choice in the first place. I don’t want a set up scoop on you. I never wanted a real scoop on you. You _threw_ me out. How-” he choked back a sob as he looked back down and buried his face in his hands. “How can I trust you ever again? We can’t go back to the way it was. I don’t know. Out of it all, this is the one thing I don’t think I’ll be able to get over.” He cursed himself, all his body wanted to do was sink to the floor and curl up, hoping that Asami would embrace him like he’d wanted all those weeks ago.

But residual pain, that internal aching hole that’d been wrenched open at the same time held him fast. He could feel himself shaking, words he’d wanted to hear for so long had just been spoken. _I need you._ Any other time, it would have been enough to get Asami Ryuichi to admit that much. He was crying because those words wouldn’t cut it this time, and he wished they would.

 

He stood in silence, and knocked on the cell door to be let out. He needed to get away, to breathe anything but the air that smelt like Asami, he needed to think.

 

The unsightly buzz of the door signaling its opening sounded. Asami’s next words stayed his hand on the door handle.

 

“Akihito. I’m sorry I’ve never said those words to you. Just know I’ve always wanted to.”

 

With his resolve near in tatters, Akihito managed to get out and shut the cold metal door behind him before he sank to his knees. He didn’t think it would be this hard to face Asami again, and he didn’t think it would be this hard to walk away, either. All his energy, all his emotions, everything was gone.

 

Feilong was there in an instant. The hall way had been cleared of personnel, and he stood over Akihito in protective silence as Akihito fought to regain himself.

 

Eventually, he stood. His mind was still in chaos, but he couldn’t be there any longer.

“Feilong, take me back to my old apartment.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to Setsuna for letting me use her OC, Jun.
> 
> One chapter and an epilogue left, thanks for sticking with me, the only thing I can say about this story is that it's good to see the progression of my writing from the first chapter up until now. Haha, *cringes*

 

 

*****

 

 

Kirishima could hardly believe he was back here, waiting.

 

He knew this place like the back of his hand, and everything in it. All the apartment’s possessions had since been brought back from the penthouse, and it was made the way it used to be.

 

It really wasn’t the outcome he was hoping for, but he’d expected it nonetheless, and Suoh’s insistence on making Takaba feel at ease at his old place had won over.

 

They brought all his things back.

 

And now the pair were standing wait.

 

For the first time in many years; he was nervous. Suoh next to him was a mixture of that and eager. It was the longest length of time both of them had been without seeing Takaba.

 

Tokyo had been much too quiet without him, work became boring without someone to chase, without someone bringing them lunch or taunting their boss into doing something amusingly irrational.

 

It became too much like the way it was before he was in their life.

 

He was nervous because they both wanted that person back, but they had no idea what they would be getting. If their last impression was anything to go by; it wouldn’t even be close.

 

The memory alone made him want to be sick. Akihito going out and getting himself beat up hoping Asami would come to his rescue, that empty shell of a person who would sit all day staring at the white paint on the ceiling of his apartment. The person who broke down and cried in his very house with nowhere to go but far away from home to escape.

 

Sure, they’d been given updates from Feilong and Yoh, but until he saw Akihito with his own eyes, he would remain uneasy.

 

If it weren’t for the fact Asami had thrown himself in jail to get to this point, he would have laughed, because next to him the normally statuesque Suoh was shifting from foot to foot, he would pace around and make sure everything was in place, Suoh wanted it to be perfect.

 

Kirishima felt the urge to do the same, just to do something to curb the anticipation in his gut, but he knew it was a futile action.

 

He settled on cleaning his glasses, more like he was trying to convince himself it was his dirty spectacles that dulled the colors of the world rather than the lack of his boss and his lively other half.

 

For how long would it be like this, he wondered as he placed his glasses back on his face with a sigh.

 

It all depended on Takaba.

 

And, like everything to do with the disgraced photographer, he couldn’t even begin to guess what move he would make.

 

They both knew for Sion’s sake, they should try to convince him to make a decision sooner rather than later, to get their boss out and go from there, but they would do the exact opposite.

 

Asami had put measures in place, Feilong would give any assistance needed, even front the underground business if need be, everything had been done that was needed to give Akihito all the time he needed.

 

Plus, it wasn’t like Suoh and Kirishima were powerless either, if people thought they could encroach just because the big wig had intentionally put himself in the lock up, they would be in for a nasty surprise.

 

Suoh had been itching for a fight ever since this all started, and it’d nearly been Asami that he’d come to blows with.

 

Kirishima didn’t even know who’d win that one, but he felt sorry for the poor soul that would be stupid enough to cross Suoh’s path still, especially when it came to anything to do with Asami or Akihito for that matter.

 

His mind went back to the argument the pair of them had over visiting Takaba senior’s house. Suoh wanted desperately to go there, to reason with the family at Akihito’s worth, but Kirishima had known Suoh would only end up angry, because what Suoh really wanted to do was blow up at someone, and who better to blow up at than the very family that deserted him when he needed someone the most.

 

Kirishima looked at his watch, they should be here any moment now, and he was grateful there was no annoying clock in _this_ apartment that told him how slow time was actually going.

 

On cue, a sharp rap on the thin wooden door from their man outside told him a vehicle was approaching, _that_ brought a curl of a smile to Kirishima’s lip, because when word got out that Takaba was coming back, most of the men that’d previously been on Takaba duty had all wanted to be here too.

 

But it wouldn’t do to have a horde of black suited men standing outside the apartment at attention. Media was still lurking after all. So they settled for one other; Jun had dragged himself out of his hospital bed and taken the post outside.

 

After being shot by Asami he’d recovered slowly, a bullet to the abdomen was always a long healing process, but nothing would keep Jun away, because if Akihito was coming back then so was he, apparently – even if he still despised Asami for what he’d done.

 

Their organization had become much like a family in that matter, Asami was the typical bad guy who would sometimes upset the men with unreasonable demands, but when Takaba got one whiff of Asami ‘being an asshole’; then the blonde would put his foot down and make their boss lighten up.

 

Obviously this situation was a little more extreme than what the others had ever been, in fact it’d nearly ripped them all apart, but that one mention of Takaba coming back, of Asami trying to make amends had pulled everyone together.

 

Really, weren’t they meant to be a group of ruthless criminals who weren’t supposed to rely on anything like that?

 

Nope. And Kirishima wouldn’t have it any other way, this was the closest to a real family most of them had ever been gifted with.

 

From inside the extremely non sound proof apartment, he heard the soft opening and closing of car doors, and the memories faded back into now.

 

Akihito was coming home.

 

 

******

 

Akihito couldn’t help but think it was unusually quiet outside his apartment, even when he used to live here it never used to be like this. There was always a tail or two skulking around.

 

There was none. No media. Only a black BMW that he knew to be Suoh’s.

 

The sun seemed to shine a little brighter as a tiny shred of excitement drew his eyes up to his old front door to see who was waiting.

 

“Jun!” he exclaimed, as his eyes found his friend and former personal guard.

 

“Yo, Akihito!” Jun called with a smile down from the balcony.

 

Akihito’s feet trampled the creaky steps with peeling paint two at a time, and as he got closer he _really_ saw Jun, and skidded to a halt as the realization hit him full force.

 

Jun was thinner, his suit didn’t fit as well, and he was definitely a little more pale in the face.

 

_I shot people I shouldn’t have._

He remembered what Asami said and suddenly he didn’t think he was going to make it all the way up the steps to his front door.

 

How many fucking times was he going to be put through the wringer in one day? The steps swam in front of him as his vision blurred, the colors all distorted into a big ugly mess of uncertainty without clear lines to define the world about him.

 

“Akihito?” Feilong questioned softly behind him, he hadn’t even registered the Baishe leader was following him.

 

“Oi, hey, Akihito! I’m fine it’s just a scratch.” His friend padded over, the clack of his dress shoes loud in his ears.

 

“But… he fucking _shot_ you, Jun.” Akihito heard himself say.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Jun waved it off, a little gingerly Akihito noticed, “I overstepped my bounds fighting for your honor.” The cheeky wink he got then was typical, sarcastic Jun, only then did Akihito start to feel a little better.

 

And then he realized how much he’s missed this part of his life. They might have been Asami’s subordinates, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. He was still friends with all of them regardless.

 

“You promise me you’re okay?” he said with a hint of doubt still in his mind, being shot was pretty damn serious after all.

 

“Absolutely, Takaba san.” Jun said, oozing formality and reassurance, with just a hue of playfulness.

 

“Don’t start that with me.” He felt the pout make its way to his face before he could stop it.

 

Behind him, Feilong’s musical laughter chimed in the breeze, and Jun just smiled at him again.

 

“Come on, the others are itching to see you, though you wont get them to admit it.” Just like that Jun brushed off the reality of the situation, the fact that Asami was in _jail_ of all things, the fact that this entire thing was a disaster and that the last time they saw each other Akihito was too out of it to even acknowledge him.

 

It brought things back a little closer to normal, even if the feeling in his bones told him everything still felt incredibly wrong.

 

Taking the steps one at a time now, he followed Jun up, took a breath as he was bid to enter his old residence first, and pushed the door open.

 

******

 

Relief. That’s what Kirishima felt at this moment when the blonde stepped through the threshold of his old, but hopefully not permanent home.

 

Akihito looked exponentially better compared to when they parted, sheepish still, but better than what he’d been expecting.

 

Thank god.

 

“Hey, brat, it’s been a while.”

 

Kirishima knew Suoh wouldn’t be able to help himself, and sure enough the burly guard was moving before the door even finished opening.

 

With a rare smile, Suoh ruffled the straw colored mop affectionately with a hand that enveloped most of Akihito’s head, and the resulting grin from Akihito was infectious.

 

“Quit it, I’m not a brat!” the protest was empty though.

 

“Could have fooled me.” The behemoth teased.

 

Part of Kirishima’s world shifted back into familiarity at watching them bicker like they always did, he was so _glad._

“He’s just an oversized brat, right Kei?” his friend called, including him because Suoh knew Kirishima hated that.

 

He did what Suoh hated and ignored him in favor of doing something he would never be able to do previously, it was the relief of it all that made him do it.

 

Kirishima stepped up to Akihito - who was looking at him with a smile full of thanks for what the secretary had done for him – and hugged him as part of his stress dissolved.

 

The young man stiffened in surprise, before Kirishima felt a pair of arms wrap around him tight and cling on soothingly.

 

“Thank you, Kei san.” Was the muffled gratitude into his suit.

 

“Don’t sweat it.” The secretary pulled away after giving Akihito one last squeeze, noticing that Akihito had put most of his weight back on as well.

 

“Jeez, and you said I was bad.” Suoh deadpanned next to them.

 

Around them, everyone laughed and an underlying tension finally seemed to dissipate.

 

“I take it I can leave him in your care while I acquaint myself with what I’m meant to be doing here?” Feilong put in with a fond look in his eye.

 

Kirishima, and Suoh too by the looks of it, had completely forgotten about that side of things, all they’d been focused on was Akihito.

 

“Oh, yes, let’s get going, Jun will be staying here. Everything is under control for now.” Kirishima reported.

 

With all this, he felt at ease leaving it as it was, they’d both seen with their own eyes that Akihito was okay, it was best to leave the young man to his thoughts for a while now.

 

Goodbyes were said, Feilong looked down at Akihito with pure adoration as they hugged good bye, though it wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other the hug was full of emotion and understanding, as if Feilong was encouraging him, giving strength and support.

 

Truly, Takaba Akihito had everyone wrapped around his finger, even for all his stubborn flaws and constant bouts of getting himself in unnecessary trouble. He was far from perfect, but then again so was everyone else here, Asami included.

 

Yoh gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, and as soon as that, the four men were leaving Akihito and Jun to their own devices.

 

There was a look of confusion on Akihito’s face as they left, as if he’d expected them to mention Asami, or something about it, about this entire situation.

 

But, like they’d all agreed, there were to be no expectations placed on him, Akihito would bring it up when he was ready.

 

And Akihito would, he wasn’t one to shy away after all, he would face it head on when it was good for him.

 

They would know, sooner or later.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Um…” Akihito stared at his apartment door as it shut behind Yoh, and scratched his head.

 

“What?” Jun called from his tiny kitchen, it sounded like he was raiding his fridge, “Oh they stocked it up good, yuss.”

 

Jun was raiding his fridge.

 

“I thought they might, you know. Say something?” he said blankly, he hardly knew what to do now he was back here.

 

“About what?” his friend came back with bread in his mouth and a pair of drinks tucked under one arm, Akihito still noticed how he sat on the couch with care though.

 

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He huffed, because he really was confused, no one seemed worried about the fact that Asami had _intentionally_ got himself arrested, add in the fact that Asami had told Akihito to take his pick on charges – which still irked Akihito to no end.

 

“You mean about Asami then right? What about it?”

 

“What am I going to do about it!? That’s the point. Fuck, Jun. It makes me sick knowing my name is on something that was set up-”

 

“Hey, don’t wind yourself up over it.” Came the interruption, full of sincerity, “Just like everything else, it’s been done and you can’t change it, even if it was a shitty move. Just think about what you’re _going_ to do about the rest. Oh, in your own time though.”

 

Akihito fell silent as he dropped into his other couch opposite the one Jun was one, his brows pursed in irritation because how was any of this really okay?

 

He was still mad, still shaken, and still confused.

 

“Oi, chill man!” Jun barked at him from across the room, shortly after a can of drink came rocketing in his direction.

 

There was ever any point trying to reason with Jun, he was assigned to Takaba for the very reason that he was one of the only people that could handle him, so he let it go, and opened his drink.

 

The unease boiled still, though.

 

 

*****

 

 

It was silent as the four of them made their way down to the car, unspoken words lingered – and Kirishima really supposed they needed to be voiced. They owed Feilong a lot, after all.

 

“I did it for Akihito, so don’t thank me.” Feilong spoke before anyone else could, it was curt, but the underlying ‘you’re welcome’ was still there, it cut the awkwardness, and from then on; nothing needed to be said about it.

 

The ride to Sion was quiet, in their minds; everyone was trying to fathom what Akihito would do from here.

 

 

*****

One day turned into two, for Akihito. Three into four, and before he knew it, a week of him brooding inside his apartment had passed.

 

He hadn’t gone out, he couldn’t bare to face any old work colleagues at this point, he could picture them floundering over the fact that someone had actually managed to put Asami Ryuichi away. The lie of it all made him sick, along with the actual fact that Asami had done it for him, as some sort of recompense for something that in Akihito’s mind; could never be forgiven.

 

People came and went though, Jun came every day, sometimes bringing Kou and Takato as well, it was like a hazy distraction at best, to the pile of daily newspapers building up on his small dining table which Kirishima or Suoh brought them on their visits.

 

They sat stacked irritatingly neat, black and white parchment curled up and held fast by a pale rubber band.

 

It was like a permanent reminder in the room, a mockery, and still they called to him.

 

Every time he reached out though, his fingers stopped before he could touch the black ink. It was terrifying thinking about what might be in those papers.

 

Each time he found himself alone, it became a battle between him and the news lines on the table, a silent fight as the pile grew one by one.

 

He wanted to throw them out, shove them in the bottom of the trash where he could convince himself they weren’t there.

 

What did it fucking matter to him what went on now? He wasn’t in the game anymore, and he didn’t even feel the urge to back, the ridicule was still fresh.

 

As far as he was concerned it had nothing to do with him anymore, so he wasn’t going to let whatever lies that were printed tell him otherwise. There were probably a million articles about Asami in there, speculating about what a bad person he was, and all that bull shit.

 

It’s not like he was going to give in, be guilted into just letting it all slide, because the papers would be telling the truth for once.

 

He deserved very article he fucking got, now that he thought about it, but at the same time he didn’t because it’d all rippled out this way all from that piece of shit fake article with his name on it - conflicted didn’t even begin to cover it.

 

No one ever mentioned it though, apart from Jun on that first day. Not one word. That he was grateful for, because he _really_ didn’t want the added weight.

 

Akihito literally had no idea what he was going to do. Nothing. Why was it up to him when he’d already made it clear to Asami?

 

There was no way in hell Asami Ryuichi would just sit there until Akihito told him to. He should just let himself out and be done with it. Surely he would soon. That would take one thing from his shoulders at least.

 

But what if Asami did actually just stay where he was? What the fuck was Akihito going to do then? He shouldn’t care so much even if it were true, but he did, and that pissed him off even more.

 

Day after day he told himself Tokyo was better off with out Asami anyway.

 

Rather than feeling better each passing day though, he only felt worse, something displaced inside of him that made him feel permanently uncomfortable.

 

It was 15 days when in a fit of frustration he swiped the collection of newspapers off his table, which was a mistake.

 

Half of them weren’t bound with rubber bands, and the result was a mass of pages scattered across the room all around him, and now there was no escape.

 

It all blurred into a sick mass of black and white blotches as he panicked, he didn’t even want to touch him to pick them up.

 

Still the pages beckoned him, and the world about him seemed to mute itself as he sunk to his knees in the middle of his living room floor, and hesitantly reached out for the first thing in front of him.

 

 

 

******

 

 

Akihito spent hours and hours reading, from one paper to other, he’d unfurled them all in a giant paper flower with him at the center.

 

The shadows moved across the floor with the course of the sun, he devoured every last headline.

 

True, it wasn’t what he was expecting, it was much worse if he was honest. With each article he grew more and more furious.

 

The man on the front page 10 days ago being praised for his charity work had just received an award, and Akihito roared inside because he _knew_ for a fact that man was a dirty piece of shit that dealt in human trafficking. Akihito had been after him for years, and the fucker had taken some spotlight with Asami out of the picture.

 

Same with the dude on the front page a few days later who’d attended a summit about anti prostitution policies. Akihito knew that guy, he was a sleaze ball that creeped him out more than Sakazaki, a real piece of work that in no way deserved the shining comments about him.

 

There wasn’t one article on Asami, Akihito guessed that Kirishima and Suoh were behind that.

 

But what it made way for made Akihito feel like throwing up every meal he’d ever eaten.

 

Bastards, perverts, rapists, murderers and pedophiles, Akihito could pin something ethically wrong on every one of the people in the headlines now. Granted, Asami was some of those things, but he still had standards.

 

Asami never dealt in the sex trade, _ever,_ andAkihito knew that human trafficking disgusted him, he wasn’t a sick creep, yeah, he was a criminal, the biggest one of all – but he had _morals_ that he stuck too.

 

Really, the people getting attention now were real bottom of the barrel of rotten fish sort of types.

 

Was this what Tokyo had really come to, without Asami?

 

No. There must be something validating in this mess.

 

The more he looked, the more it became clear though, or more like smudged; in Asami’s stead; this is what Tokyo had lowered itself to.

 

His own laugh, which probably sounded insane, echoed through his apartment. Oh, the irony. _The irony._

How long had he loathed the fact that the person he cared for was a dirty felon in his mind? He’d lumped him in with all these others, thinking they went in the black pile, and everyone else went in the white pile.

 

By the time he was at the latest date, he was shaking, and like the rubber band pulled in haste off those fucking lying papers; he snapped as realization overwhelmed him.

 

He didn’t even shut the door behind him as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

  


	17. Chapter 17

 

Tokyo wind whispered through his hair as he ran, feet hitting the pavement at a bone jarring pace and blooming white stars in his vision, matching his heart as he gave it everything. Nothing was right.

 

“Takaba san! Where are you going?” he rushed passed one of Asami’s men, streaking his vision with the black and white suit that was bringing him lunch.

 

“Asami!”

 

*

 

 

In the back of his mind that knew the way Asami’s men functioned, knew the scale on which they did things and knew how to read Akihito himself like an open book, he should have also known that all those newspapers on his table were there for a reason.

 

Of course they were, they were there to paint a picture of the world as others saw it, and there to show the reality that Akihito knew it to be. Those two things were completely different, and all this time he’d been trying to believe in delusion while cluelessly ignoring _his_ reality.

 

The world as he knew it changed the moment he met Asami, and while Akihito was no innocent; he’d still been fighting the _entire_ notion of Asami’s existence in his life every step of the way.

 

What Asami did was irreparable, the black stain on his name would always be there now no matter which way Akihito looked at it; he’d always be that reporter that had some sort of association with Asami Ryuichi.

 

And, no matter what choice Akihito chose to make, that was never going to change, yet the masochistic side of himself told him it was probably better like this.

 

The ironic part of it all, the part that stung the most right now just as his lungs screamed for respite, was that even if all this hadn’t happened, even if he still lived in that penthouse with Asami as that golden boy reporter who fought for his ideals on justice; it would still be a lie.

 

Akihito was a useless liar, even he knew that. There was no point in covering a lie with yet more lies

 

He didn’t need to fight shadows with light or justice, the law was bullshit, and, it’d taken this to realize that he only wanted to bring evil to ruin any way he could, he didn’t care where he fought from, as long as he won.

 

There would _be_ no stain if he painted his entire name black and submerged himself into the biggest force of all, a force capable of ruining _everything._

 

 

*

_“Kirishima san, he’s running. Fast.”_ With trepidation lumping in his throat, the secretary hoped to whatever deity who would listen that Akihito was running where he wanted him to. He was tired.

 

The city was a mess, though Feilong had been true to his word, the Baishe leader just didn’t give off the same flare, and it felt as though without Asami they just might wither.

 

Vermin had crawled up from the shadows, worms from the woodwork and rats from the holes they called home, a rising tide of the lowest sort, together with Suoh and the rest of the men they’d fought tooth and nail to keep it all clean for Asami, and Akihito too.

 

“Do you know where?” all eyes were on him, the office a grove of silent black suits all standing to attention in his direction, all waiting for this pivotal moment.

 

_“All he said was Asami, sir.”_

There it was, the monumental shift that would set a close to this unneeded chapter of words better left unsaid, Kirishima knew exactly what to do now, he’d paint the headlines with the right story this time, and do what should have been done when that first damning article was published.

 

*

 

The station where Asami was being held was on the other side of town, Akihito had been here many times before, yet this time was the most willing he’d ever be, the fastest he’d ever run in _this_ direction.

 

No space to think and no time to stop, Akihito knew the way better on foot than he did on his scooter or inconspicuous black car. It wouldn’t feel the same right now if his lungs weren’t empty as he rounded the last corner to see the throng of journalists out front, it wouldn’t be the same as the thump of his pulse overrode his ability to hear anything else, or maybe they were all silent as they looked on, anyway.

 

His descent had started, and this was the only way he wanted it, they couldn’t reach him even if they tried.

 

Kirishima and Suoh met him at the door with a fondness on their faces that he’d been unknowing of because _this_ is where he belonged now, he should have know this was their doing, too, that they would set this up perfectly, nothing less for Asami Ryuichi.

 

His path was unhindered as the door was pushed open for him, and inside, with a wall of media at his back, where it would always be from this point on; he came face to face with Officer Yamazaki and his uncertain wince, “Takaba, are you sure-

 

“Let him out, Yamazaki san.”

 

“Very well then, there’s no going back now, you know.” the rattling of keys and plastic access cards paired with Yamazaki’s last warning.

 

“There never was.”

 

*

 

His heart should have slowed as he stood there waiting with the snaps of camera’s and bursts of flashes highlighting this new beginning, but it kept its rampant pace as speechlessness held his tongue.

 

Akihito still didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if he could ever put into words how he’d hurt down to his bones, the war of conflict in his conscience that’d wanted nothing but Asami’s comfort, and at the same time to never see him again.

 

That hollow feeling of betrayal and self pity in his chest still echoed with a reminder of what Asami had done, the hole would be a long time in closing over.

 

A hiss of whispers started as the security buzzer blared it’s obnoxious siren to announce that people were coming through from the holding cells down the hall, the squeak of shoes on linoleum, the last rattle of a barred door and then finally, the distinctive clack of expensive Italian loafers on the tile floor of the station’s main lobby.

 

He was in that same midnight suit, tall, dark and imposing as usual, a beacon of power and money and everything he used to hate, but could no longer deny.

 

Akihito should be happy to see him like this, with a pair of handcuffs binding this underworld linchpin, but he was a linchpin to Akihito’s cause too, he’d probably always be loathe to admit that, though.

 

And then he met those all knowing gold eyes that were looking at him as if he were a blind man seeing for the first time, like all he’d known before this was monotone oblivion and Akihito wanted _nothing_ more than to take a fucking picture so he could make this his own damn personal headline that was real to him and no one else. It might have been noisy in that lobby, there might have been things going on all around, but all he could see was Asami and all he could hear was silence as Officer Yamazaki freed Asami of his last restraints.

 

“This isn’t me forgiving you.” Akihito finally managed to make his mouth form the words.

 

Asami understood, that acknowledging dip of his head and sigh of his chest as he released breath told Akihito just how much Asami had been holding on. “I know.”

 

“I probably never will.” He ventured on to say, taking one step closer.

 

“I know.” Asami rubbed his now free wrists and waited still, a smile ghosting the curve of his mouth.

 

“But I’m gonna fix it, Asami. This city, this… mess.” And Akihito himself was a mess, but before anything happened, he had to get this out for _everyone_ to see.

 

“I know.” understanding came again, and that look of fondness only grew as Akihito took another step closer.

 

“And you’re gonna help me.”

 

“I know.” a chuckle and a hummed breath said Asami knew this was coming, because if Asami could use Akihito, then Akihito was going to make sure it could be the other way around too.

 

“… If you betray me again, I’ll never-

 

“I know, Akihito, I know.” this time, Asami cut him off with his first step forward, opening his arms wide with his black suit to guide Akihito the last of the way.

 

Warm air caressed his head as Asami breathed in Akihito’s scent, as Akihito closed the gap and willingly stepped into the waiting arms of the abyss in front of him to let it swallow him whole.

 

Behind them, the pure white flashes of cameras and recording devices was blinding, yet nothing could reach him in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

 _Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you. –_ Coldplay

 

 


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look who is getting shit done. haha. finally.

Kirishima stared at the picture before him, not unlike one he’d seen before, and not unlike one he’d see again.

 

It wasn’t uncommon for him to see this image now, and no matter the quality of the image or clarity of the photo, the story behind it was easy to see. This picture told a thousand words that were there for the whole world to see, unspoken no longer.

 

There was nothing but truth in this photo, two halves on one whole inseparable always, complete in each others embrace.  

 

Raw and pure in black and white, it was uncomplicated and simple; the feelings in this photo, unfazed and unaffected by worldly influences, oblivious in an abyss of their own because nothing else existed except that other half. Photographers still longed to catch a photo such as this.

 

Kirishima really liked this photo, just as he liked all the ones before this, too.

 

The way Asami looked down at Akihito’s face, his eyes soft only when looking at him, an expression only for him, his stance protective as he loomed forebodingly in a black tuxedo, an untiring pillar of support and silent threat to anyone who dared disturb their peace.

 

And Akihito walked proudly at his side, clad in a black suit of his own, holding his hand because he’d never let go, confident in the path he’d chosen with Asami at his side. His smile was blinding, the smile on his face as he looked up as his boss infectious and bright.

 

Together they were a force to be reckoned with, like the sky and earth and lightning between them, the world would come crashing down if you took one from the other.

 

The secretary allowed himself a smile at his picture, a photo like this he could deal with.

 

Photographers had a field day whenever these two went out together, and it was always Kirishima’s job to bring the inevitable back to the penthouse the next morning when he picked Asami up for work.

 

Unlike that morning though, months and months ago, this photo didn’t pose any problems.

 

With the newspaper tucked under his arm that had the photo of Asami Ryuichi and Takaba Akihito on the front page, he pushed the door open to the penthouse, only uneasy at what he might find the two of them up to.

 

He hadn’t walked in on the two of them yet, but it was probably bound to happen sooner or later.

 

 

 


End file.
